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THE 

SCHOOL  FOR  SCANDAL 


COMEDY  IN  FIVE 


RICHARD   BR1NSLEY  SHERIDAN 


RANGED    BY 

AUGUSTIN  DALY 


•';     ^74 

RE,    JANUARY   20,    1891 
KR'S  COPY 


PRINTED   FOR    MR.    DALY 


>  •  •  •  I 
•  •  • 


THE 

SCHOOL  FOR  SCANDAL 

A  COMEDY  IN  FIVE  ACTS 


BY 

RICHARD  BRINSLEY  SHERIDAN 


REMODELLED   AND   ARRANGED    BY 

AUGUSTIN  DALY 


FIRST  PRODUCED  AT  THE  FIFTH  AVENUE  THEATRE,  SEPTEMBER   I2TH,  1874 
REPRODUCED   AT   DALY'S   THEATRE,    JANUARY   20,    1891 

AND   HERE    PRINTED   FROM   THE    PROMPTER'S    COPY 


PRINTED   FOR  MR.   DALY 


- 


Entered,  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1874,  by  Mr.  AUGUSTIN  DALY 
at  the  Office  of  the  Librarian  of  Congress,  at  Washington,  D.  C. 


53 

IS9 


A   FEW    REMARKS 


ON 


THE  SCHOOL  FOR  SCANDAL. 


BY 

WILLIAM    WINTER. 


ALTHOUGH  genius  is  elemental,  and  therefore  is  not  created  by  circum- 
stances, it  is  certain  that  circumstances  exert  an  important  influence  upon 
its  drift,  and  upon  the  channels  and  methods  of  its  expression.  Sheridan 
— whose  father  was  an  actor  and  whose  mother  was  a  dramatist,  and  who 
was  born  at  Dublin  in  1751,  and  trained  at  Harrow  School  from  1762  till 
1769,  when  he  went  to  reside  with  his  father  at  Bath — came  upon  the 
scene  at  a  period  when  English  fine  society  was  in  an  exceedingly  artifi- 
cial condition ;  and  this  prevalent  artificiality  of  manners,  as  experience 
subsequently  proved,  was  destined  to  increase  and  to  prevail  during  the 
whole  of  his  career  [he  died  in  1816],  and  not  to  decline  until  after  the 
death  of  George  the  Fourth,  in  1830.  When  Sheridan  went  to  reside  at 
Bath  he  was  in  his  nineteenth  year ;  a  remarkably  handsome  youth  ;  ar- 
dent and  impressible  ;  and  Bath  was  then  one  of  the  gayest  cities  in  the 
British  kingdom.  In  that  brilliant  city  and  in  that  opulent,  insincere, 
tattling,  backbiting  society— intermittently,  but  most  of  the  time — he 
lived  during  the  perilous  years  of  his  youth,  from  1770  to  1776  :  there  he 
loved  and  won  for  a  wife  the  beautiful  Eliza  Linley — eloping  with  her  to 
France,  and  fighting  duels  in  her  defence  when  he  came  back  ;  there  he 
wrote  "The  Rivals"  and  "The  Duenna,"  and  there  he  planned  and 
partly  executed  "The  School  for  Scandal."  Into  "The  Rivals"  he 
wrought  much  of  his  own  personal  experience,  duly  and  artistically  modi- 
fied and  veiled.  Into  the  "  School  for  Scandal"  he  wrought  the  results 
of  his  observation — working  in  a  manner  essentially  natural  to  his  order 
of  mind,  yet  one  that  was  to  some  extent  guided  and  impelled  by  the 
study  of  Etherege,  Wycherley,  Farquhar,  Vanbrugh,  and  Congreve,  who 
are  his  intellectual  ancestors.  There  is  more  freedom,  more  freshness  of 
impulse,  more  kindness,  more  joy,  more  nature  in  "  The  Rivals  "  than 

3 


M18I3S2 


REMARKS  ON  THE   SCHOOL  FOR  SCANDAL. 

there  is  in  "  The  School  for  Scandal ;  "  but  both  are  artificial ;  both  re- 
flect, in  a  mirror  of  artistic  .exaggeration,  the  hollow,  feverish,  ceremoni- 
ous, bespangled,  glittering,  heart-breaking  fashionable  world,  in  which 
their  author's  mind  was  developed  and  in  which  they  were  created.  The 
"  School  for  Scandal,"  indeed,  is  completely  saturated  with  artificiality, 
and  the  fact  that  it  was  intended  to  satirize  and  rebuke  the  faults  of  an 
insincere,  scandal-mongering  society  does  not — and  was  not  meant  to — 
modify  that  pervasive  and  predominant  element  of  its  character. 

Satire,  in  order  to  be  effective,  must  portray  the  thing  that  it  excoriates. 
The  "  School  for  Scandal"  rebukes  a  vice  by  depicting  it,  and  makes  the 
rebuke  pungent  by  depicting  it  in  a  brilliant  and  entertaining  way ;  yet 
there  is  no  considerable  comedy  in  our  language,  not  even  one  by  Ether- 
ege  or  by  Congreve* — authors  whose  influence  was  naturally  and  cogently 
operative  upon  the  kindred  mind  of  Sheridan — that  stands  further  off 

*  The  student  of  the  comedies  of  Sheridan  is  aided  in  his  appreciation  of  their 
quality,  their  spirit,  their  peculiar -excellence,  by  a  preliminary  study  of  Etherege, 
Wycherley,  Farquhar,  Vanbrugh,  and  Congreve.  The  intellectual  line  represented 
by  those  writers  closed  with  Sheridan.  No  successor  has  arisen,  although  of  imita- 
tors there  have  been  scores.  Sir  George  Etherege  [1636  7-1689]  wrote  "  The  Comi- 
cal Revenge"  [1664],  "She  Would  if  She  Could  "  [1668],  and  "The  Man  of  Mode, 
or  Sir  Fopling  Flutter  "  [1676].  William  Wycherley  [1640-1715]  wrote,  between  1672 
and  1677,  "Love  in  a  Wood,"  "The  Gentleman  Dancing-Master,"  "The  Country 
Wife,"  and  "The  Plain-Dealer."  Moore  found  it  difficult  to  believe  that  Sheridan 
was  unfamiliar  with  the  last  of  these  pieces :  it  is  extremely  probable  that  he  had  a 
cursory  knowledge  of  them  all.  George  Farquhar  [1678-1707]  wrote  ' '  Love  and  a 
Bottle  "  [1699],  "  The  Constant  Couple  "  [1700],  "  Sir  Harry  Wildair  "  [1701],  "  The 
Inconstant"  [1702],  "The  Twin  Rivals"  [1703],  "The  Stage  Coach"  [1705],  in 
which  he  was  assisted  by  Peter  A.  Motteux  [1660-1718],  "The  Recruiting  Officer" 
[1705],  and  "The  Beaux  Stratagem"  [1707].  Sheridan  had  the  same  Irish  grace 
that  is  found  in  Farquhar,  but  he  more  closely  resembles  Congreve  in  terseness  and 
glitter.  Sir  John  Vanbrugh  [16667-1726]  wrote  "The  Relapse"  [1697],  "The  Pro- 
voked Wife  "  [1697],  "JEsop"  [1697],  "The  Pilgrim"  [1700],  "The  False  Friend" 
[1702],  "  The  Confederacy  "  [1705],  "  The  Mistake  "  [1706],  "  The  Cuckold  in  Con- 
ceit" [1706],  "The  Country  House"  [1715],  and  "A  Journey  to  London"  [1728]. 
11  Squire  Trelooby  "  [1734]  is  also  attributed  to  him.  Vanbrugh  wrote  with  more  ap- 
parent facility  than  either  of  the  others  in  this  group,  and  his  language  is  more  flexi- 
ble, more  like  the  language  of  actual  men  and  women,  than  that  of  the  rest.  William 
Congreve  [1670-1729]  wrote  "The  Old  Bachelor"  [1693],  "The  Double-Dealer" 
[1694],  "  Love  for  Love"  [1695],  "The  Mourning  Bride"  [1697],  "  The  Way  of  the 
World"  [1700],  "The  Judgment  of  Paris,"  a  Masque  [1701],  and  "  Semele  "  [1707]. 
Moore  notes  the  significant  fact  that  the  best  comedies  have  generally  been  written 
by  young  authors.  All  of  Congreve's  pieces  were  written  before  he  was  twenty-five. 
Farquhar  died  at  thirty.  Vanbrugh  began  early.  Sheridan  at  twenty-seven  had 
written  "  The  School  for  Scandal,"  and  he  never  surpassed  it ;  indeed,  practically,  he 
wrote  no  more  for  the  stage — for  "  Pizarro"  and  "The  Stranger"  (which  substan- 
tially are  his)  are  scarcely  worth  remembrance.  But  the  reason  why  good  comedies 
may  be  written  by  clever  young  men  is  not  obscure.  Comedy  must  necessarily  treat 
of  actual  life  and  manners,  and  this  subject,  which  ceases  to  be  interesting  as  men 
grow  old,  is  for  youth  a  delightful  inspiration. 

4 


REMARKS   ON  THE   SCHOOL  FOR  SCANDAL. 

from  the  simplicity  of  nature,  moves  in  a  more  garish  light,  or  requires 
for  its  intelligible  and  effective  interpretation  a  more  studied,  manufact- 
ured, fantastic  manner.  It  contains  no  person  upon  whom  the  imagina- 
tion can  dwell  with  delight,  or  to  whom  the  heart  can  become  devoted  ; 
no  person  who  either  fires  the  mind  by  example,  or  arouses  the  imagina- 
tion by  romantic  nobility,  or  especially  wins  esteem  whether  for  worth  of 
character  or  excellence  of  conduct.  Once  or  twice  indeed — as  in  Charles's 
impulsive  expression  of  grateful  sentiment  toward  the  bounteous  uncle 
whom  he  supposes  to  be  absent  from  the  scene  of  the  Auction,  and  in  Sir 
Peter  Teazle's  disclosure  to  Joseph  of  his  considerate  intentions  toward  his 
volatile  wife,  in  the  scene  of  the  Screen — it  imparts  a  transient  thrill  of 
feeling.  But  it  never  strikes — and,  indeed,  it  never  aims  to  strike — the 
note  of  pathos,  in  its  portraiture  of  human  life  :  so  that,  in  the  main,  it 
contains  scarcely  a  single  trait  of  simple  humanity.  And  yet  its  fascina- 
tion is  universal,  indomitable,  irresistible,  final — the  fascination  of  buoy- 
ant intellectual  character,  invincible  gayety,  pungent  satire,  and  a  gor- 
geous affluence  of  polished  wit.  It  succeeded  when  it  was  first  produced, 
and  now,  after  the  lapse  of  a  hundred  and  thirteen  years,  it  still  con- 
tinues to  please,  equally  when  it  is  acted  and  when  it  is  read.  There  is  a 
moral  in  this,  which  ought  to  carry  comfort  to  those  votaries  of  art  who 
believe  in  symbol  rather  than  in  fact,  the  ideal  rather  than  the  literal ; 
who  know  that  a  dramatic  picture  of  life,  in  order  that  it  may  be  made 
universal  in  its  applicability  and  incessant  in  its  influence,  must  be  made 
to  present  aggregate  and  comprehensive  personifications  and  not  local 
and  particular  portraits,  and  must  be  painted  in  colors  that  are  not  sim- 
ply true  but  delicately  exaggerated.  This  is  the  great  art — the  art  which 
has  made  Shakespeare  to  survive  when  Ben  Jonson  is  dead.  The  ab- 
sence of  genial  emotion — of  the  glow  of  expansive  humanity  and  of  pathos 
— in  the  "  School  for  Scandal"  is,  perhaps,  to  be  regretted  ;  but  in  this 
case  a  deficiency  of  the  melting  heart  is  counterbalanced  by  a  prodigality 
of  the  opulent  mind.  The  piece  transcends  locality  and  epoch.  The 
resident  not  only  of  Bath  and  of  London,  but  of  New  York  and  San  Fran- 
cisco, the  denizen  not  only  of  great  capitals  but  of  provincial  villages,  the 
inhabitant  of  yesterday,  to-day,  and  to-morrow,  can  perceive  the  mean- 
ing, feel  the  power,  and  rejoice  in  the  sparkling  gayety  of  "  The  School 
for  Scandal." 

This  great  comedy — produced  when  its  author  was  in  his  twenty-seventh 
year — was  written  slowly,  painfully,  and  with  patient  labor.  Moore  de- 
votes about  thirty  pages  of  his  "  Life  of  Sheridan"  to  an  exposition  of  the 
two  distinct  sketches  that  the  dramatist  first  made,  when  rearing  the 
fabric  of  the  piece,  and  dilates  with  particular  admiration  upon  the 
scrupulous  study,  the  fastidious  care,  and  the  anxious  severity  of  revision 
with  which  he  selected  his  language,  moulded  his  materials,  and  blended 
and  fused  the  many  scattered  threads  of  his  fancy  and  inventive  thought 
into  one  symmetrical  fabric  of  crystal  wit.  "  Nothing  great  and  durable," 

5 


REMARKS   ON  THE  SCHOOL  FOR   SCANDAL. 

exclaims  the  delighted  biographer  [and  Moore  was  a  man  of  excellent 
judgment,  great  reading,  and  a  beautiful  faculty  in  literature],  "has  ever 
been  produced  with  ease.  .  .  .  Labor  is  the  parent  of  all  the  lasting 
wonders  of  this  world,  whether  a  verse  or  stone,  whether  poetry  or  pyra- 
mids." The  original  manuscripts  of  the  comedy  manifested  especially  to 
Moore's  discerning  eye  "  a  certain  glare  and  coarseness,"  showing  the 
effect  of  recent  study  of  Wycherley  and  Vanbrugh  ;  but  also  they  revealed 
the  steady  pressure  of  a  delicate  taste  and  the  incessant  operation  of 
strenuous  refinement,  alike  in  the  improvement  of  the  characters,  the 
conduct  of  the  plot,  the  formation  and  arrangement  of  the  sentences,  and 
the  choice  of  epithets.  One  of  Sheridan's  peculiarities,  indeed,  was  a 
light,  graceful,  indolent  manner  of  elegant  leisure.  He  preferred  that 
people  should  suppose  that  his  work  was  always  done  spontaneously  and 
with  careless  ease.  In  reality  he  accomplished  nothing  without  effort. 
During  a  considerable  part  of  his  life — certainly  till  he  was  thirty-six, 
when  he  joined  Edmund  Burke's  sentimental  crusade  against  Warren 
Hastings,  and  fortified  the  rancorous  rhetoric  of  that  statesman  by  a 
refulgent  burst  of  verbal  fireworks  concerning  the  Begum  Princesses 
of  Oude — his  industry  was  minute,  assiduous,  and  vigilant.  No  man 
was  ever  a  more  pertinacious  worker,  and  no  man  ever  seemed  to  have 
less  occupation  or  less  need  of  endeavor  for  the  accomplishment  of 
splendid  things.  He  did  not,  as  so  many  fussy  people  do — who  cannot 
endure  to  be  employed  without  an  everlasting  fluster  of  cackle  over  the 
virtue  of  their  toil — intrude  his  labor  upon  the  attention  of  his  friends. 
He  displayed  the  finished  statue ;  he  did  not  vaunt  the  chips  and  the  dust 
that  were  made  in  the  cutting  of  it.  He  gave  results  ;  he  did  not  pro- 
claim the  process  of  their  production.  "  Few  persons  with  so  much  natu- 
ral brilliancy  of  talents,"  says  Moore,  "  ever  employed  more  art  and  cir- 
cumspection in  their  display."  But  Sheridan's  reticence  in  this  particular 
was  not  exclusively  of  a  theatrical  kind.  He  held  the  most  of  human 
achievements  to  be  [what  certainly  they  are]  of  slight  importance  ;  he 
shrunk  with  all  his  soul  from  the  disgrace  and  humiliation  of  being  a 
bore  ;  and  he  possessed  in  extraordinary  fulness,  and  therefore  he  abun- 
dantly exerted,  the  rare  faculty  of  taste.  There  can  be  no  doubt  that  as 
time  wore  on  the  character  of  Sheridan  was  weakened  and  degraded  by 
misfortune,  embarrassment,  profligate  associations  [with  the  Prince  Re- 
gent and  his  shameless  set],  and  most  of  all  by  intemperance  ;  but  at 
the  beginning  of  his  life,  and  for  some  years  of  his  splendid  productive- 
ness and  prosperity,  he  was  a  noble  gentleman  and  a  most  individual 
mental  power  ;  and  there  is  no  reason  why  a  virtue  of  his  character  should 
be  set  down  to  its  weakness. 

The  "School  for  Scandal"  was  produced  under  auspicious  circum- 
stances. Garrick  had  read  it  and  pronounced  it  excellent.  Garrick, 
moreover,  had  assisted  at  its  rehearsals,  and  had  written  a  prologue  to 
introduce  it.  Murphy,  in  his  life  of  that  great  actor — then  retired  from 

6 


REMARKS  ON  THE  SCHOOL   FOR  SCANDAL. 

the  stage — says  that  Garrick  was  never  known  on  any  former  occasion  to 
be  more  anxious  for  a  favorite  piece.  On  the  first  night,  May  8,  1777, 
the  doors  of  Drury  Lane  Theatre,  which  were  opened  at  half-past  five, 
had  not  been  opened  an  hour  when  the  house  was  crowded.  The  receipts 
that  night  were  ^225.  King  spoke  the  prologue,  which  is  in  Garrick's 
more  whimsical  and  sprightly  manner.  Colman  furnished  an  epilogue.  The 
rehearsals  had  been  numerous  and  careful.  Sheridan,  who  was  manager 
as  well  as  author,  had  taken  great  pains.  Every  part  was  well  acted. 
The  incessant  play  of  wit  created  an  effect  of  sparkling  animation.  Mrs. 
Abington,  King,  and  Smith — who  played  respectively  Lady  Teazle,  Sir 
Peter  Teazle,  and  Charles  Surface — were  uncommonly  brilliant.  Palmer, 
as  Joseph  Surface,  was  superb.  The  only  defect  noticed  was  a  sluggish- 
ness of  movement  in  act  second,  incident  to  some  excess  of  talk  by 
the  clique  of  scandal-mongers.  Garrick  observed  that  the  characters 
upon  the  stage  at  the  falling  of  the  screen  waited  too  long  before  they 
spoke.  At  the  close  of  the  screen  scene,  nevertheless — ending  the  fourth 
act— the  applause  was  tremendous.  Frederick  Reynolds,  the  dramatist, 
happening  to  pass  through  the  pit  passage,  "  from  Vinegar  Yard  to  Brydges 
Street,"  about  nine  o'clock  that  night,  heard  such  a  noise,  all  at  once, 
that  he  thought  the  theatre  was  about  to  fall,  and  ran  for  his  life.  The 
public  enthusiasm,  after  the  final  descent  of  the  baize,  was  prodigious. 
Sheridan  was  so  delighted  that  he  quaffed  unlimited  wine,  got  drunk,  made 
a  row  in  the  street,  and  was  knocked  down  and  put  into  the  watch-house. 
The  London  newspapers  teemed  with  praises  of  the  comedy,  not  only  on 
the  next  day  but  on  many  days  thereafter.  Horace  Walpole,  who  speed- 
ily went  to  see  it,  wrote  thus  from  his  retreat  at  Strawberry  Hill  :  "  To 
my  great  surprise  there  were  more  parts  performed  admirably  in  this 
comedy  than  I  almost  ever  saw  in  any  play.  Mrs.  Abington  was  equal 
to  the  first  in  her  profession.  Yates,  Parsons,  Miss  Pope,  and  Palmer, 
all  shone."  Boaden,  the  biographer,  in  allusion  to  King  and  Mrs.  Ab- 
ington as  Sir  Peter  and  Lady  Teazle,  said  they  were  so  suited  to  each 
other  that  they  lost  half  their  soul  in  separation.  For  years  afterward  the 
success  of  "  The  School  for  Scandal "  was  so  great  in  London  that  it 
clouded  the  success  of  the  new  pieces  that  were  brought  forward  in 
its  wake.  From  the  capital  it  went  to  Bath,  Edinburgh,  York,  Dublin, 
and  other  large  towns  of  the  kingdom.  Moore  records  that  the  scenes  of 
the  Auction  and  the  Screen  were  presented  upon  the  Paris  stage  in  1778, 
in  a  piece  called  "  Les  Deux  Neveux,"  and  that  the  whole  story  soon 
found  its  way  to  the  Theatre  Frangais,  under  the  name  of  "  Tartuffe  de 
Moeurs."  Genest,  commenting  on  the  first  cast,  and  speaking  from  his 
ample  knowledge  of  the  chronicles  of  the  first  performance  (if  not,  possi- 
bly, from  personal  recollection),  observes  that  "this  comedy  was  so  ad- 
mirably acted  that  though  it  has  continued  on  the  acting  list  at  Drury 
Lane  from  that  time  to  this  [1832],  and  been  several  times  represented  at 
Covent  Garden  and  The  Haymarket,  yet  no  new  performer  has  ever  ap- 

7 


REMARKS  ON  THE  SCHOOL  FOR  SCANDAL. 

peared  in  any  one  of  the  principal  characters  that  was  not  inferior  to  the 
person  who  acted  it  originally." — The  statement  is  made  in  "The  Thes- 
pian Dictionary"  [1802],  that  "the  copy  of  this  play  was  lost  after  the 
first  night's  representation,  and  all  the  performers  in  it  were  summoned 
together  early  the  next  day  in  order,  by  the  assistance  of  their  parts,  to 
prepare  another  prompter's  book." 

The  London  productions  of  the  "  School  for  Scandal,"  recorded  by 
Genest  *  are  as  follows  : 

Drury  Lane May  8,  1777. 

Haymarket September  2,  1785. 

Drury  Lane April  8,  1 797. 

Drury  Lane , May  18,  1798. 

Covent  Garden March  31,  1798. 

Covent  Garden May  30,  1810. 

Covent  Garden March  23,  1813. 

Covent  Garden September  10,  1818. 

Drury  Lane December  I,  1825. 

It  is  more  than  half  a  century  since  the  industrious,  loquacious,  sensi- 
ble, matter-of-fact  parson  of  Bath  made  up  his  chronicle,  and  many 
brilliant  representations  of  ft  The  School  for  Scandal  "  have  been  accom- 
plished within  that  time  on  both  sides  of  the  Atlantic.  The  method  in 
which  the  piece  was  originally  acted,  however,  has  been  preserved  by 
tradition,  and  actors  in  succeeding  generations  have  seldom  widely  de- 
parted from  it — although  they  may  have  fallen  short  of  its  reputed  per- 
fection [a  point  by  no  means  certain].  That  method  was  the  delicate, 
brilliant  exaggeration  of  the  manners  of  polite  society  in  the  days  of 
George  the  Third.  Mrs.  Abington  [1738-1815],  the  original  representa- 
tive of  Lady  Teazle,  made  her,  radically  and  consistently,  the  affected 
fine  lady,  without  giving  the  slightest  indication  that  she  had  ever  been 
"  a  girl  bred  wholly  in  the  country  ;  "  and  Mrs.  Abington's  example  has 
usually,  and  perhaps  involuntarily,  been  followed.  Elizabeth  Farren 
[1759-1829],  who  succeeded  Mrs.  Abington  at  Drury  Lane,  gave  a  re- 
markably elegant  performance  of  the  part,  harmonious  as  to  artifice  with 
the  ideal  indicated  by  her  predecessor,  but  superior  to  that  ideal  in  natu- 
ral refinement.  It  was  in  this  character  that  Miss  Farren  took  leave  of 
the  stage,  April  8,  1797,  just  before  her  marriage  with  the  Earl  of  Derby.f 

*  Some  Account  of  the  English  Stage,  from  the  Restoration  in  1660  to  1830.  In 
Ten  Volumes.  [By  the  Rev.  John  Genest,  of  Bath.]  Bath  :  Printed  by  H.  E.  Car- 
rington.  Sold  by  Thomas  Rodd,  Great  Newport  Street,  London,  1832. 

t  "  I  recollect  the  circumstance  of  seeing  Lord  Derby  leaving  his  private  box  to 
creep  to  her  [Miss  Farren],  behind  the  screen,  and,  of  course,  we  all  looked  with  im- 
patience for  the  discovery,  hoping  the  screen  would  fall  a  little  too  soon  and  show 
to  the  audience  Lord  Derby  as  well  as  Lady  Teazle." — Miss  WYNNE'S  "  Diary  of  a 
Lady  of  Quality." 

8 


REMARKS   ON  THE  SCHOOL   FOR   SCANDAL. 

The  next  important  embodiment  of  Lady  Teazle  was  that  of  Dora  Jordan 
[1762-1816].  That  delightful  actress,  while  assuming  the  affected  fine 
lady,  allowed  an  occasional  trace  of  rustic  breeding  to  show  itself  through 
an  artificial  manner.  John  Gait,  who  wrote  biographies  of  both  Miss  Far- 
ren  and  Mrs.  Jordan,  but  had  never  seen  either  of  them,  states  that 
Dora  Jordan's  impersonation  of  Lady  Teazle  was  praised  for  "those 
little  points  and  sparkles  of  rusticity  which  are  still,  by  the  philosophical 
critics,  supposed  to  mark  the  country  education  of  the  fascinating  hero- 
ine." And  Gait's  parallel  between  the  two  is  instructively  significant. 
Miss  Farren  was  "  as  the  camelia  of  the  conservatory — soft,  beautiful,  and 
delicate."  Mrs.  Jordan  was  "as  the  rose  of  the  garden,  sprinkled  with 
dew."  All  the  representatives  of  Lady  Teazle,  for  a  hundred  years,  have 
been  of  one  or  the  other  of  the  varieties  thus  denoted. 

Historic  chronicles  record  many  distinguished  names  of  actors  upon 
the  British  stage  who  have  been  identified  with  "  The  School  for  Scan- 
dal "  and  who  have  sharpened  the  outline  and  deepened  the  color  of  those 
traditions  as  to  its  performance  which  it  was  a  part  of  their  vocation  to 
transmit.  King,  who  left  the  stage  in  1802,  had  earlier  parted  from  Sher- 
idan. His  immediate  successors  as  Sir  Peter  Teazle  were  Richard 
Wroughton  and  the  elder  Mathews  [1776-1835],  but  neither  of  them  was 
conspicuously  fine  in  it.  Mathews  played  Sir  Peter  at  twenty-eight 
Munden  [1758-1832]  acted  it,  with  Mrs.  Abington  as  Lady  Teazle,  on 
March  31,  1789,  in  London.  Before  that  time  he  had  acted  it  in  Dublin 
with  Miss  O'Neill  as  Lady  Teazle  ;  and  he  opened  the  season  of  1816-17 
with  it,  at  the  new  Drury  Lane  [the  old  one  was  burned  down  on  Febru- 
ary 24,  1809].  During  his  farewell  engagement,  October  I  to  October 
31,  1823,  at  Drury  Lane,  he  played  it  twice — on  the  i8th  and  on  the 
25th.  His  performance  of  Sir  Peter  was  always  admired  for  polished  de- 
portment, freedom  from  suspicion,  and  boundless  confidence.  "  When 
an  actor  retires,"  said  Charles  Lamb,  "  how  many  worthy  persons  must 
perish  with  him  !  With  Munden — Sir  Peter  Teazle  must  experience  a 
shock  ;  Sir  Robert  Bramble  gives  up  the  ghost ;  Crack  ceases  to  breathe." 
The  discrimination  here  suggested  is  significant  :  Sir  Peter  was  in  the 
second  grade — not  the  first — of  that  great  actor's  achievements.  It  was 
in  the  first  grade,  however,  of  the  achievements  of  his  eminent  successor, 
William  Farren  *  [1786-1861],  the  best  Lord  Oglcby  of  this  century,  on 

*  On  the  occasion  when  William  Farren  made  his  first  appearance  upon  the  Lon- 
don stage,  playing  Sir  Peter  Teazle,  the  "  School  for  Scandal"  was  interpreted  by  a 
remarkable  group  of  actors.  This  performance  occurred  at  Covent  Garden  Theatre 
[Mr.  Harris,  manager],  on  September  10,  1818  ;  and  this  is  a  part  of  the  cast: 


Sir  Peter  Teazle Mr.  Farren. 

Sir  Oliver  Surface Mr.  Terry. 

Joseph  Surface Mr.  Young. 

Charles  Surface Mr.  C.  Kemble. 

Crabtree...  ..Mr.  Blanchard. 


Sir  Benjamin  Backbite Mr.  Listen. 

Lady  Teazle Miss  Louisa  Brunton. 

Maria. Miss  Foote. 

Lady  Sneerwell 

Mrs.  Candour. ..  ...Mrs.  Gibbs. 


REMARKS   ON  THE  SCHOOL  FOR   SCANDAL. 

the  British  stage,  who,  while  he  lacked  robust  vigor  for  the  impersonation 
of  Sir  Anthony  Absolute  and  kindred  characters,  possessed  exactly  the 
lace-ruffle-and-diamond  style  essential  for  the  expression  of  Sir  Peter 
Teazle's  refinement,  high-bred  testiness,  and  amused,  satirical  cynicism. 
No  English  actor  since  Farren  has  been  esteemed  his  equal  in  this  char- 
acter. The  most  notable  performance  of  Sir  Peter  that  the  English  audi- 
ence has  seen  since  Farren's  day  was,  apparently,  that  of  Samuel  Phelps 
[1797-1872].  It  is  thought  to  have  lacked  Farren's  distinction  and  his 
delicacy  of  mechanism  and  finish,  but  it  was  accounted  remarkable 
for  the  qualities  of  force,  sincerity,  authority,  and  restraint.  William 
Farren,  son  of  "  old  Farren,"  performed  Sir  Peter  Teazle,  in  a  revival 
of  "The  School  for  Scandal"  which  was  effected  at  the  Vaudeville 
Theatre,  London,  in  1872,  and  gained  public  favor  and  critical  admira- 
tion. 

The  character  of  Lady  Teazle  has  had  many  representatives  on  the 
British  stage,  only  a  few  of  whom  are  now  remembered.  Louisa  Brun- 
ton,  who  became  Countess  of  Craven,  and  Miss  Smithson  [1800-1854], 
who  wedded  with  Berlioz,  the  composer,  were  among  the  earliest  fol- 
lowers in  the  footsteps  of  Mrs.  Abington,  Miss  Farren,  and  Mrs.  Jor- 
dan. Mrs.  Warner  [1804-1854],  acted  the  part  with  Phelps,  and  was 
esteemed  one  of  its  best  representatives.  Lucy  Elizabeth  Vestris  [1798- 
1856]  gave  an  impersonation  of  Lady  Teazle,  which,  although  superficial 
and  shallow,  was  exceedingly  vivacious  and  piquant.  Louisa  Cranstoun 
Nisbett  [1812-1858],  who  became  Lady  Boothby  — the  most  radiant 
and  enchanting  of  the  old  stage  beauties — made  the  part  bewitching 
and  brilliant,  without  suggestion  of  much  sincerity  or  depth.  One  of 
the  most  highly  esteemed  and  thoughtfully  commended  portrayals  of 
Lady  Teazle  that  have  been  recorded  of  late  years  was  that  given 
by  Marie  Wilton  (Mrs.  Bancroft)  at  the  Prince  of  Wales  Theatre, 
London,  in  April,  1874.  That  intellectual  and  polished  actress  Gene- 
vieve  Ward  has  acted  it,  with  sparkling  effect,  both  in  French  and 
English . 

The  American  record  of  "  The  School  for  Scandal "  begins  with  a  per- 
formance of  it  given  at  the  John  Street  Theatre,  New  York,  on  Decem- 
ber 16,  1785.  The  famous  piece  was  then  acted — according  to  the  excel- 
lent authority  of  Mr.  Ireland — "probably  for  the  first  time  in  America." 
The  cast  is  printed  on  another  page  of  this  book.  The  first  representa- 
tion that  the  comedy  received  at  the  old  Park  Theatre  occurred  on  De- 
cember 3,  1798.  Since  then  it  has  been  performed  in  every  considerable 
theatre  in  the  United  States,  and  often  it  has  enlisted  the  talent  of  re- 
markably brilliant  groups  of  actors.  There  is  probably  no  veteran  play- 
goer who  could  not,  with  slight  effort  of  the  memory,  recall  a  cast  of 
"  The  School  for  Scandal "  which  he  would  regard  as  incomparable  and 
memorable.  No  piece  has  enjoyed  more  favor  as  the  signalizing  feature 


REMARKS   ON  THE  SCHOOL   FOR   SCANDAL. 

of  special  dramatic  occasions.*  The  chief  part — the  part  that  is  a  spring  of 
crystal  vitality  for  the  whole  fabric  of  the  piece — is  Lady  Teazle,  and  upon 
the  representative  of  that  character  the  comedy  is  largely  dependent. 
On  the  American  stage  Lady  Teazle  has  been  acted  by  Mrs.  Morris,  Mrs. 
Henry,  Mrs.  Hallam,  Mrs.  Lipman,  Miss  Westray  [Mrs.  W.  B.  Wood], 
Mrs.  Shaw,  Mrs.  Gilfert,  Fanny  Kemble  [September  21,  1832],  Mrs.  Hamb- 
lin,  Miss  Cooper,  Rose  Telbin,  Miss  Anderton,  Mrs.  Russell  [now  Mrs. 
Hoey]  Mme.  Ponisi,  Mrs.  Mowatt,  Catharine  Sinclair  [Mrs.  Edwin  Forrest], 
Ellen  Tree  [Mrs.  Charles  Kean],  Julia  Dean,  Eliza  Logan,  Mrs.  Catherine 
Farren,  Jean  Davenport  [Mrs.  Lander],  Mrs.  Bowers,  Laura  Keene,  Miss 
Jane  Coombs,  Miss  Madeline  Henriques,  Miss  Rose  Eytinge,  Miss  Fanny 
Davenport,  Mrs.  Julia  Bennett  Barrow,  Mrs.  Scott-Siddons,  Miss  Adelaide 
Neilson,  Miss  Rose  Coghlan,  Miss  Augusta  Dargon,  Miss  Annie  Clarke, 
Mrs.  F.  B.  Conway,  Miss  Ada  Dyas,  Mrs.  Clara  Jennings,  Miss  Ada  Cav- 
endish, Mrs.  Rose  Leland,  and  Mrs.  Langtry. 

Among  distinguished  representatives  of  Sir  Peter  Teazle  who  have  been 
seen  on  the  American  stage  may  be  named  Mr.  Henry,  Mr.  Hallam,  Mr. 
W.  B.  Wood,  Joseph  Jefferson  [the  grandfather  of  our  Rip  Van  Winkle}, 
William  Warren  [the  father  of  the  late  William  Warren,  of  our  time,  who 
also  was  famous  and  especially  fine  in  this  character],  Mr.  Twaits,  Mr. 
Roberts,  Mr.  Blanchard,  Mr.  Finn,  Mr.  Chippendale,  Henry  Placide, 
Peter  Richings,  Henry  Wallack,  Charles  Barr,  William  Rufus  Blake, 
William  Davidge,  John  Gilbert,  William  Warren,  Charles  Fisher,  Mark 
Smith,  and  Henry  Edwards.  The  character  of  Charles  Surface  has  been 
interpreted,  for  American  audiences,  by  Mr.  Hodgkinson,  Mr.  Cooper, 
George  Barrett,  Charles  Kemble,  Frederick  B.  Conway,  James  E.  Mur- 
doch, William  Wheatley,  George  Vandenhoff,  E.  L.  Davenport,  Lester 
Wallack,  Charles  Wyndham,  H.  J.  Montague,  Osmund  Tearle,  Charles 
Coghlan,  Charles  Barren,  George  Clarke,  and  John  Drew. 

Most  of  the  old  comedies  contain  improprieties;  sometimes  of  situation, 
more  commonly  of  language ;  and  these  are  not  adornments  but  blem- 
ishes. Every  old  comedy,  furthermore,  which  has  survived  in  actual 

*  Among  memorable  casts  of  "  The  School  for  Scandal "  this  one  may  well  be  re- 
called. The  performance  was  given  in  the  afternoon  of  May  19,  1869,  at  Niblo's 
Theatre,  for  the  benefit  of  John  Brougham  : 

Sir  Peter  Teazle John  Gilbert.t  I  Trip J.  C.  Williamson. 

Sir  Oliver  Surface John  Brougham.t   Snake Frank  Rae.t 


Joseph  Surface Neil  Warner. 

Charles  Surface Edwin  Adams.t 

Crabtree A.  W.  Young.t 

Sir  Benjamin  Backbite  ..Owen  Marlowe.t 
Rowley T.  J.  Hind.t 


Careless J.  W.  Collier. 

Sir  Harry  Bumper R.  Green. 

Lady  Teazle Mrs.  D.  P.  Bowers. 

Maria Miss  Pauline  Markham. 

Lady  Sneerwell Mrs.  John  Sefton.t 


Moses Harry  Beckett.t '  Mrs.  Candour Miss  Fanny  Morantt 

t  Dead. 
II 


REMARKS  ON  THE  SCHOOL  FOR  SCANDAL 

representation,  has  gathered  to  itself,  in  the  course  of  years,  a  consider- 
able number  of  extraneous  passages,  which  may  collectively,  though  per- 
haps not  quite  accurately,  be  described  as  "gags."  These  are  the  con- 
tributions, mainly,  of  actors  and  stage-managers.  They  are  either  fig- 
ments of  fancy,  or  readily  appreciable  jokes,  or  local  and  particular 
allusions,  which,  in  actual  performance  of  the  piece,  were  found  to  be 
effective.  In  some  cases  they  have  become  so  solidly  incorporated  into 
the  original  text  that  they  have  gained  acceptance  as  actually  parts  of  the 
original  structure,  and  the  omission  of  them  has  been  known  to  prompt  a 
righteous  remonstrance  against  the  iniquity  of  tampering  with  the  author. 
As  a  rule  they  are  both  spoken  and  heard  under  the  impression  that  they 
belong  to  the  play.  The  "pickled  elephant"  that  figures  in  Valentine's 
mad  scene,  in  "  Love  for  Love,"  might  be  cited  as  an  example  of  this  sort  of 
embellishment.  The  passage  is  not  in  Congreve's  text,  but  it  is  generally 
used.  It  was  introduced  by  the  elder  Wallack — then  a  young  man  on  the 
London  stage — on  a  night  when  he  was  acting  Valentine,  in  place  of  Ellis- 
ton,  who  was  disabled  with  gout.  That  day  an  elephant  had  gone  mad 
and  been  shot  by  the  guards,  and  this  incident  had  caused  much  popular 
excitement.  Valentine,  who  is  pretending  to  be  deranged,  has  to  talk 
wildly,  and  Wallack's  sudden  ejaculation,  "  Bring  me  a  pickled  elephant," 
was  thought  to  be  excellent  lunacy — for  it  was  received  with  copious  ap- 
plause ;  and  Elliston,  seated  in  his  invalid-chair,  at  the  wing,  accosted 
Wallack,  as  that  actor  came  off,  and  mournfully  exclaimed,  "  They  never 
shot  an  elephant  for  me,  young  man  !  "  Since  then  every  representative 
of  Valentine  makes  this  allusion,  although  now  the  reference  is  pointless 
and  the  image  stands  in  the  category  of  Oriana's  "  tall,  gigantic  sights" 
and  Tilburina's  "  whistling  moon."  The  presence  of  such  points  in  those 
old  plays  may  well  intimate  to  the  judicious  observer  that  their  text  has 
not,  from  the  beginning,  been  regarded  as  a  sacred  thing,  and  that  the 
prime  necessity  of  the  stage — which  is  Effect — may  sometimes  be  found 
to  warrant  both  additions  and  omissions  in  the  presentment  of  comedies 
that  are,  in  some  measure,  obsolete.  One  thing  is  certain — that  the  in- 
delicacy of  those  old  pieces  is  offensive  to  the  taste  of  the  present  time, 
and  ought  not  ever,  in  these  days,  to  be  thrust  upon  an  audience.  It  is 
not  an  answer  to  talk  of  "  Bowdlerism,"  or  to  sneer  at  "  purists,"  or  to 
stigmatize  refinement  as  squeamish  pruriency.  There  is  much  pure 
gold  in  the  Old  English  Comedy  ;  but  the  dirt  that  is  in  it  should  always 
be  cast  aside.  Nor  is  the  modern  theatre  under  any  sort  of  obligation 
to  treat  that  body  of  stage  literature  as  if  it  were  a  celestial  revelation. 
The  present  book  of  "The  School  for  Scandal,"  prepared  by  Augustin 
Daly,  has  been  edited  in  a  spirit  harmonious  with  these  views.  The 
coarseness  of  the  scandal-mongering  colloquies  has  been  expunged 
and  the  story  made  no  less  cleanly  than  it  is  direct  and  forcible,  as  well 
as  pertinent  to  conventional  experience.  A  few  sentences  have  been 

12 


REMARKS  ON  THE   SCHOOL   FOR   SCANDAL. 

dropped,  in  order  to  shorten  the  piece,  and  a  few  others  have  been  trans- 
posed— the  objects  sought  being  incessant  movement  and  the  circum- 
scription of  each  act  within  a  single  scenic  picture.  This  comedy  is  not 
only  the  best  work  of  one  of  the  most  brilliant  writers  that  ever  lived,  but 
it  is  one  of  the  best  dramatic  pieces  ever  written,  and  the  revival  of  it 
from  time  to  time  will,  doubtless,  continue  to  occur  upon  the  stage  as 
long  as  the  stage  endures.  This  certainly  should  be  hoped,  for  "  The 
School  for  Scandal "  teaches  charity  and  reticence  ;  and  these  are  among 
the  greatest  virtues  that  adorn  character  and  sanctify  life. 

13 


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111 


THE  SCHOOL  FOR  SCANDAL. 


ACT  I. 

• 

SCENE  I.— LADY  SNEERWELL'S  House. 
LADY  SNEERWELL  enters  with  SNAKE,  R.  u.  E. 

Lady  S.  The  paragraphs,  Mr.  Snake,  were  all  inserted  ? 

Snake.  They  were,  madam  ;  and  as  I  copied  them  myself  in 
a  feigned  hand,  there  can  be  no  suspicion  whence  they  came. 

Lady  S.  Did  you  circulate  the  report  of  Lady  Brittle's  in- 
trigue with  Captain  Boastall  ?  [Sits  on  sofa,  R. 

Snake.  That's  in  as  fine  a  train  as  your  ladyship  could  wish. 
In  the  common  course  of  things,  I  think*  it  must  reach  Mrs. 
Clackitt's  ears  within  four-and-twenty  hours  ;  and  then  the 
business  is  as  good  as  done,  for  you  know  Mrs.  Clackitt  has  a 
very  pretty  talent,  and  a  great  deal  of  industry.  \_Sits^\  But 
then  she  wants  that  delicacy  of  tint  and  mellowness  of  sneer 
which  distinguishes  your  ladyship's  scandal. 

[A  servant  enters  with  chocolate,  which  he  serves  to  both, 
and  stands  in  the  background  itntil  they  return  their 
cups.'} 

Lady  S.  Ah  !     You  are  partial,  Snake. 

Snake.  Not  in  the  least  —  everybody  allows  that  Lady 
Sneerwell  can  do  more  with  a  word  or  a  look  than  many  can 
with  the  most  labored  detail,  even  when  they  happen  to  have 
a  little  truth  on  their  side  to  support  it. 

Lady  S.  Yes,  my  dear  Snake  ;  and  I  am  no  hypocrite  to 

15 


THE  SCHOOL   FOR   SCANDAL. 

deny  the  satisfaction  I  reap  from  the  success  of  my  efforts. 
Wounded  myself  in  the  early  part  of  my  life  by  the  envenomed 
tongue  of  slander,  I  confess  I  have  since  known  no  pleasure 
equal  to  the  reducing  others  to  the  level  of  my  own  reputa- 
tion. 

Snake.  Nothing  can  be  more  natural.  But,  Lady  Sneer- 
well,  there  is  one  affair  in  which  you  have  lately  employed 
me,  wherein,  I  confess,  I  am  at  a  loss  to  guess  your  motives. 

Lady  S.  I  conceive  you  mean  with  respect  to  my  neighbor, 
Sir  Peter  Teazle,  and  his  family  ? 

Snake.  I  do.  Here  are  two  young  men,  to  whom  Sir  Peter 
has  acted  as  a  kind  of  guardian  since  their  father's  death  ;  the 
eldest  possessing  the  most  amiable  character,  and  universally 
well  spoken  of — the  youngest,  the  most  dissipated  and  extrav- 
agant young  fellow  in  the  kingdom,  without  friends  or  charac- 
ter ;  the  former  an  avowed  admirer  of  your  ladyship's,  and 
apparently  your  favorite  ;  the  latter  attached  to  Maria,  Sir 
Peter's  ward,  and  confessedly  beloved  by  her.  Now,  on  the 
face  of  these  circumstances,  it  is  utterly  unaccountable  to  me 
why  you,  the  widow  of  a  city  knight,  with  a  good  jointure, 
should  not  close  with  the  passion  of  a  man  of  such  character 
and  expectations  as  Mr.  Surface  ;  and  more  so,  why  you 
should  be  so  uncommonly  earnest  to  destroy  the  mutual  at- 
tachment subsisting  between  his  brother  Charles  and  Maria. 

Lady  S.  [Laying  her  cup  on  table.']  Then  at  once  to  un- 
ravel this  mystery,  I  must  inform  you  that  love  has  no  share 
whatever  in  the  intercourse  between  Joseph  Surface  and  me. 

Snake.  No  ?  [Handing  his  cup  to  SERVANT,  who  exits. 

Lady  S.  His  real  attachment  is  to  Maria,  or  her  fortune  ;  but 
finding  in  his  brother  a  favored  rival,  he  has  been  obliged  to 
mask  his  pretensions,  and  profit  by  my  assistance. 

Snake.  Yet  I  am  still  more  puzzled  why  you  should  interest 
yourself  in  his  success. 

Lady  S.  {Rises  and  goes  C.]  Heavens  !  how  dull  you  are. 
Cannot  you  surmise  the  weakness  which  I  hitherto,  through 
shame,  have  concealed  even  from  you  ?  Must  I  confess  that 
Charles,  that  libertine,  that  extravagant,  that  bankrupt  in  for- 
tune and  reputation,  that  he  it  is  for  whom  I'm  thus  anxious 

16 


THE  SCHOOL  FOR  SCANDAL. 

and  malicious,   and  to  gain  whom   I   would  sacrifice  every- 
thing ?  [Sits  L. 

Snake.  [  Rises.]  Now,  indeed,  your  conduct  seems  consis- 
tent ;  but  how  came  you  and  Joseph  so  confidential  ? 

[Stands  by  LADY  SNEERWELL. 

Lady  S.  For  our  mutual  interest.  I  have  found  him  out  a 
long  time  since.  I  know  him  to  be  artful,  selfish,  and  malicious 
— in  short,  a  sentimental  knave  ;  while  with  Sir  Peter,  and  in- 
deed with  all  his  acquaintance,  he  passes  for  a  youthful  miracle 
of  prudence,  good  sense,  and  benevolence. 

Snake.  [Sits]  Yes :  yet  Sir  Peter  vows  he  has  not  his  equal 
in  England — and  above  all  he  praises  him  as  a  man  of  senti- 
ment. 

Lady  S.  True — and  with  the  assistance  of  his  sentiment  and 
hypocrisy  he  has  brought  him  entirely  into  his  interest  with 
regard  to  Maria  ;  while  poor  Charles  has  no  friend  in  the  house, 
though,  I  fear,  he  has  a  powerful  one  in  Maria's  heart,  against 
whom  we  must  direct  our  schemes. 

Enter  SERVANT,  from  L. 

Serv.  Mr.  Surface. 

Lady  S.  [Crosses  R.]  Show  him  up.  [Exit  SERVANT,  L.] 
He  generally  calls  about  this  time.  [Going  R.]  I  don't  won- 
der at  people  giving  him  to  me  for  a  lover. 

Enter  JOSEPH  SURFACE,  C. 

Joseph  S.  [C.]  My  dear  Lady  Sneerwell,  how  do  you  do 
to-day  ?  Mr.  Snake,  your  most  obedient. 

Lady  S.  [R.]  Snake  has  just  been  rallying  me  on  our  mu- 
tual attachment ;  but  I  have  informed  him  of  our  real  views. 
You  know  how  useful  he  has  been  to  us,  and,  believe  me,  the 
confidence  is  not  ill-placed.  [Sits  R. 

Joseph  S.  Madam,  it  is  impossible  for  me  to  suspect  a  man 
of  Mr.  Snake's  sensibility  and  discernment. 

Lady  S.  Well,  well,  no  compliments  now  ;  but  tell  me  when 
you  saw  your  mistress,  Maria,  or,  what  is  more  material  to  me, 
your  brother. 

17 


THE   SCHOOL  FOR  SCANDAL. 

Joseph  S.  {Sits. .]  I  have  not  seen  either  since  I  left  you  ; 
but  I  can  inform  you  that  they  never  meet.  Some  of  your 
stories  have  taken  a  good  effect  on  Maria. 

Lady  S.  Ah  !  my  dear  Snake  !  the  merit  of  this  belongs  to 
you  ;  but  do  your  brother's  distresses  increase  ? 

Joseph  S.  Every  hour.  I  am  told  he  has  had  another  exe- 
cution in  the  house  yesterday.  In  short,  his  dissipation  and 
extravagance  exceed  everything  I  ever  heard  of. 

Lady  S.  Poor  Charles  ! 

Joseph  S.  True,  madam ;  notwithstanding  his  vices,  one 
cannot  help  feeling  for  him.  Poor  Charles  !  I  am  sure  I  wish 
it  were  in  my  power  to  be  of  any  essential  service  to  him  ;  for 
the  man  who  does  not  feel  for  the  distresses  of  a  friend,  even 
though  merited  by  his  own  misconduct,  deserves 

Lady  S.  O  Lud  !  {Rises  and  goes  C.]  You  are  going  to  be 
moral,  and  forget  that  you  are  among  friends. 

Joseph  S.  Egad,  that's  true  !  I'll  keep  that  sentiment  till  I 
see  Sir  Peter.  {Knock  heard  outside. 

Snake.  I  believe,  Lady  Sneerwell,  here's  company  coming, 
I'll  go  and  copy  the  letter  I  mentioned  to  you.  {Goes  up.~\ 
Mr.  Surface,  your  most  obedient. 

Joseph  S.  [  Turning  to  SNAKE.]  Sir,  your  very  devoted. 
[Exit  SNAKE,  R.  C.]  Lady  Sneerwell,  I  am  very  sorry  you 
have  put  any  further  confidence  in  that  fellow. 

Lady  S.  Why  so  ? 

Joseph  S.  [R.]  I  have  lately  detected  him  in  frequent  con- 
ference with  old  Rowley,  who  was  formerly  my  father's  stew- 
ard, and  has  never,  you  know,  been  a  friend  of  mine. 

Lady  S.  And  do  you  think  he  would  betray  us  ? 

Joseph  S.  Nothing  more  likely.  [LADY  SNEERWELL  goes 
R.]  Take  my  word  for  it.  He  has  not  honesty  enough  to 
be  faithful  even  to  his  own  villainy. — Ah  !  Maria  !  {Crosses  L. 

Enter  MARIA,  "L.,  preceded  by  SERVANT. 

Lady  S.  [R.]  Maria,  my  dear,  how  do  you  do  ? What's 

the  matter  ? 

Maria.  [C.]  Oh  !  that   disagreeable  lover   of  mine,  Sir  Ben- 

18 


THE   SCHOOL   FOR   SCANDAL. 

jamin  Backbite,  has  just  called  at  my  guardian's  with  his  odious 
uncle,  Crabtree  ;   so  I  slipped  out,  and  ran  hither  to  avoid  them. 

Lady  S.   Is  that  all  ? 

Joseph  S.  [L.]  If  my  brother  Charles  had  been  of  the  party, 
madam,  perhaps  you  would  not  have  been  so  much  alarmed. 

[MARIA  sits  R. 

Lady  S.  Nay,  now  you  are  severe  ;  for  I  dare  swear  the 
truth  of  the  matter  is  Maria  heard  you  were^here.  \Sits. ~\ 
But,  my  dear,  what  has  Sir  Benjamin  done,  that  you  should 
avoid  him  so  ? 

Maria.  Oh  !  he  has  done  nothing— but  'tis  for  what  he  has 
said  ;  his  conversation  is  a  perpetual  libel  on  all  his  acquaint- 
ance. 

Joseph  S.  Ay,  and  the  worst  of  it  is,  there  is  no  advantage  in 
not  knowing  him — for  he'll  abuse  a  stranger  just  as  soon  as  his 
best  friend  ;  and  his  uncle  Crabtree's  as  bad. 

Lady  S.  Nay,  but  we  should  make  allowance. — Sir  Benja- 
min is  a  wit  and  a  poet. 

Maria.  For  my  part,  I  own,  madam,  wit  loses  its  respect 
with  me,  when  I  see  it  in  company  with  malice. 

Lady  S.  Pshaw  ! — there's  no  possibility  of  being  witty  with- 
out a  little  ill-nature  :  the  malice  of  a  good  thing  is  the  barb 
that  makes  it  stick. 

Enter  SERVANT,  L. 

Serv.  Mrs.  Candour.  [Exit  SERVANT,  c. 

Lady  S.  Now,  Maria,  here  is  a  character  to  your  taste ;  for 
though  Mrs.  Candour  is  a  little  talkative,  everybody  allows  her 
to  be  the  best  natured  and  best  sort  of  woman. 

Maria.  Yes,  with  a  very  gross  affectation  of  good  nature 
and  benevolence  she  does  more  mischief  than  the  direct  malice 
of  old  Crabtree. 

Joseph  S.  I'faith  that's  true,  Lady  Sneerwell :  whenever  I 
hear  the  current  running  against  the  characters  of  my  friends, 
I  never  think  them  in  such  danger  as  when  Candour  under- 
takes their  defence. 

Lady  S.  Hush  ! — here  she  is. 

[Goes  to  meet  MRS.  CANDOUR. 

19 


THE  SCHOOL   FOR   SCANDAL. 
SERVANT  shows  in  MRS.  CANDOUR,  L. 

Mrs.  Can.  My  dear  Lady  Sneerwell,  how  have  you  been 

this  century? Mr.  Surface,  what  news  do  you  hear? — 

though  indeed  it  is  no  matter,  for  I  think  one  hears  nothing 
else  but  scandal. 

Joseph  S.  [L.]  Just  so,  indeed,  ma'am. 

Mrs.  C.  \_Qrosses  to  MARIA,  and  sits  on  chair  R.]  Oh, 
Maria  !  child, — what !  is  the  whole  affair  off  between  you  and 
Charles  ? — His  extravagance,  I  presume — the  town  talks  of 
nothing  else. 

Maria.  [R.]  I  am  very  sorry,  ma'am,  the  town  has  so  little 
to  do. 

Mrs.  C.  [R.  C.]  True,  true,  child  :  but  there's  no  stopping 
people's  tongues.  I  own  I  was  hurt  to  hear  it,  as  I  indeed  was 
to  learn,  from  the  same  quarter,  that  your  guardian,  Sir  Peter, 
and  Lady  Teazle,  have  not  agreed  lately  as  well  as  could  be 
wished. 

Maria.  Tis  strangely  impertinent  for  people  to  busy  them- 
selves so. 

Mrs.  C.  Very  true,  child  : — but  what's  to  be  done? — People 
will  talk — there's  no  preventing  it.  Why,  it  was  but  yester- 
day I  was  told  that  Miss  Gadabout  had  eloped  with  Sir  Fili- 
gree Flirt. — But,  Lord!  there's  no  minding  what  one  hears; 
though,  to  be  sure,  I  had  this  from  very  good  authority. 

Maria.  Such  reports  are  highly  scandalous. 

Mrs.  C.  So  they  are,  child — shameful,  shameful !  But  the 

world  is  so  censorious — no  character  escapes. Lord,  now, 

who  would  have  suspected  your  friend,  Miss  Prim,  of  an  indis- 
cretion ?  Yet  such  is  the  ill-nature  of  people  that  they  say  her 
uncle  stopped  her  last  week  just  as  she  was  stepping  into  the 
York  Mail  with  her  dancing-master. 

Maria.  I'll  answer  for  it,  there  are  no  grounds  for  that  re- 
port. 

Joseph  S.  The  license  of  invention  some  people  take  is  mon- 
strous indeed. 

Maria.  'Tis  so ;  [Rises.]  but,  in  my  opinion,  those  who  re- 
port such  things  are  equally  culpable. 

20 


THE  SCHOOL  FOR  SCANDAL. 

Mrs.  C.  To  be  sure  they  are  :  {Rises  J\  tale-bearers  are  as 
bad  as  the  tale-makers — 'tis  an  old  observation,  and  a  very  true 
one.  But  what's  to  be  done  ?  as  I  said  before  ;  how  will  you 
prevent  people  from  talking  ? 

Joseph  S.  Ah,  Mrs.  Candour  !  \_Rises.~]  If  everybody  had 
your  forbearance  and  good-nature  !  [LADY  S.  joins  MARIA. 

Mrs.  C.  I  confess,  Mr.  Surface,  I  cannot  bear  to  hear  people 
attacked  behind  their  backs  ;  and  when  ugly  circumstances 
come  out  against  our  acquaintance,  I  own  I  always  love  to 
think  the  best.  By  the  by,  I  hope  'tis  not  true  that  your 
brother  is  absolutely  ruined  ? 

Joseph  S.  I  am  afraid  his  circumstances  are  very  bad  in- 
deed, ma'am. 

Mrs.  C.  Ah  !  I  heard  so — but  you  must  tell  him  to  keep  up 
his  spirits  ;  everybody  almost  is  in  the  same  way  ;  so  if  Charles 
is  undone,  he'll  find  half  his  acquaintance  ruined  too,  and  that, 
you  know,  is  a  consolation. 

Joseph  S.  Doubtless,  ma'am — a  very  great  one. 

Enter  SERVANT,  L. 

Serv.  Mr.  Crabtree  and  Sir  Benjamin  Backbite. 

{Exit  SERVANT. 

Lady  S.  So,  Maria,  you  see  your  lover  pursues  you. 
[MARIA  makes  an  attempt  to  go  away.]  Positively  you  sha'n't 
escape. 

Enter  CRABTREE  and  SIR  BENJAMIN  BACKBITE,  L. 

Crab.  Lady  Sneerwell,  I  kiss  your  hand.  {Crosses  to  MRS. 
CANDOUR.] — Mrs.  Candour,  I  don't  believe  you  are  acquainted 
with  my  nephew,  Sir  Benjamin  Backbite  ?  Egad  !  ma'am,  he 
has  a  pretty  wit,  and  is  a  pretty  poet,  too  ;  isn't  he,  Lady 
Sneerwell  ? 

Sir  B.    [L.]  O  fie,  uncle  ! 

Crab.  [R.  C.]  Nay,  egad,  it's  true  ;  I  back  him  at  a  rebus  or 
a  charade  against  the  best  rhymer  in  the  kingdom. — Has  your 
ladyship  heard  the  epigram  he  wrote  last  week  on  Lady  Friz- 
zle's feather  catching  fire? — Do,  Benjamin,  repeat  it,  or  the 

21 


THE  SCHOOL  FOR  SCANDAL. 

charade  you  made  last  night  extempore  at  Mrs.   Drowzie's 
conversazione.     Come  now  ! 

Sir  B.   Uncle,  now — pr'thee {Crosses  R.  C. 

Crab.  I'faith,  ma'am,  'twould  surprise  you  to  hear  how  ready 
he  is  at  these  things.  \_Sits  L.  with  MRS.  CANDOUR. 

Lady  S.  \Sits  R.]  I  wonder,  Sir  Benjamin,  you  never  pub- 
lish anything. 

[Chocolate  is  here  handed  roimd  by  the  SERVANT. 

Sir  B.  To  say  truth,  ma'am,  'tis  very  vulgar  to  print,  and  as 
my  little  productions  are  mostly  satires  and  lampoons  on  par- 
ticular people,  I  find  they  circulate  more  by  giving  copies  in 
confidence  to  the  friends  of  the  parties.  [Crosses  to  MARIA.] 
However,  I  have  some  love  elegies  which,  when  favored  with 
this  lady's  smiles,  I  mean  to  give  the  public. 

Crab.  'Fore  heaven,  ma'am,  they'll  immortalize  you  ! — you 
will  be  handed  down  to  posterity,  like  Petrarch's  Laura  or 
Waller's  Sacharissa. 

Sir  B.  Yes,  madam,  I  think  you  will  like  them,  when  you 
shall  see  them  on  a  beautiful  quarto  page,  where  a  neat  rivulet 
of  text  shall  murmur  through  a  meadow  of  margin. — 'Fore 
Gad,  they  will  be  the  most  elegant  things  of  their  kind. 

Crab.  [To  MRS.  CANDOUR.]  But,  ladies,  that's  true— have 
you  heard  the  news  ? 

Mrs.  C.  What,  sir,  do  you  mean  the  report  of — 

Crab.  No,  ma'am,  that's  not  it — Miss  Nicely  is  going  to  be 
married  to  her  own  footman. 

Mrs.  C.  Impossible ! 

Crab.  Ask  Sir  Benjamin. 

Sir  B.  [Going  C.]  'Tis  very  true,  ma'am  ;  everything  is 
fixed,  and  the  wedding  liveries  bespoke. 

[  The  SERVANT  removes  cups  and  exits. 

Mrs.  C.  [Cresses  C.]  It  can't  be — and  I  wonder  any  one  should 
believe  such  a  story,  of  so  prudent  a  lady  as  Miss  Nicely. 

Sir  B.  [R.  C.]  O  lud  !  ma'am,  that's  the  very  reason  'twas 
believed  at  once.  She  has  always  been  so  cautious  and  so  re- 
served that  everybody  was  sure  there  was  some  reason  for  it 
at  bottom. 

Mrs.  C.  Well,  but  this  may  be  all  a  mistake.    You  know,  Sir 

22 


THE  SCHOOL  FOR  SCANDAL. 

Benjamin,  very  trifling  circumstances   often   give  rise  to  the 
most  injurious  tales. 

Crab.  That  they  do,  I'll  be  sworn,  ma'am.     [To  SURFACE.] 

0  lud !  Mr.  Surface,  pray  is  it  true  that  your  uncle,  Sir  Oliver, 
is  coming  home  ? 

Joseph  S.  [L.]  Not  that  I  know  of,  indeed,  sir. 

Crab.  [R.  #/ JOSEPH.]  He  has  been  in  the  East  Indies  a  long 
time.  You  can  scarcely  remember  him,  I  believe  ? — Sad  com- 
fort, whenever  he  returns,  to  hear  how  your  brother  has  gone 
on  ! 

Joseph  S.  Charles  has  been  imprudent,  sir,  to  be  sure ;  but 

1  hope  no  busy  people  have  already  prejudiced  Sir  Oliver 
against  him.     He  may  reform. 

Sir  B.  To  be  sure  he  may  :  for  my  part,  I  never  believed 
him  to  be  so  utterly  void  of  principle  as  people  say ;  and 
though  he  has  lost  all  his  friends,  I  am  told  nobody  is  better 
spoken  of  by  the  Jews. 

Crab.  That's  true,  egad,  nephew.  If  the  old  Jewry  was  a 
ward,  I  believe  Charles  would  be  an  alderman  : — no  man  more 
popular  there,  'fore  Gad  !  I  hear  that  whenever  he  is  sick, 
they  have  prayers  for  the  recovery  of  his  health  in  all  the  syn- 
agogues. [Crosses  R.  C. 

Sir  B.  Yet  no  man  lives  in  greater  splendor.  They  tell 
me  when  he  entertains  his  friends,  he  will  sit  down  to  dinner 
with  a  dozen  of  his  own  securities  :  have  a  score  of  tradesmen 
waiting  in  the  antechamber,  and  an  officer  behind  every  guest's 
chair. 

Joseph  S.  This  may  be  entertainment  to  you,  gentle- 
men, but  you  pay  very  little  regard  to  the  feelings  of  a  bro- 
ther. [Goes  up  C. 

Maria.  Their  malice  is  intolerable.  [Goes  up. 

Mrs.  C.  O  dear  !  she  changes  color  very  much.    [  Whispered. 

Lady  S.  'Twas  nothing  but  that  she  could  not  bear  to  hear 
Charles  reflected  on,  notwithstanding  their  difference. 

[Goes  up  to  meet  other  guests,  who  arrive  at  the  back ; 
others  follow  at  intervals^ 

Sir  B.  The  young  lady's  penchant  is  obvious.     [Crosses  R.  C. 

Crab.  But,  Benjamin,  you  must  not  give  up  the  pursuit  for 

23 


THE  SCHOOL  FOR  SCANDAL. 

that :  follow  her,  and  put  her  in  good  humor.  Aye,  'fore 
Gad,  repeat  to  her  some  of  your  verses ; — by  the  by,  your 
epigram  on  Lady  Betty's  ponies. 

Mrs.  C.  [R.]  Yes,  do  ;  let  us  all  hear  it. 

Joseph  S.  Yes,  yes,  the  epigram,  by  all  means. 

Sir  B.   O  plague  on't,  uncle  !  'tis  mere  nonsense. 

Crab.  No,  no  ;  'fore  Gad,  very  clever  for  an  extempore ! 

Sir  B.  [C.]  But,  ladies,  you  should  be  acquainted  with 
the  circumstance.  You  must  know,  that  one  day  last  week, 
as  Lady  Betty  Curricle  was  taking  the  dust  in  Hyde  Park,  in 
a  sort  of  duodecimo  phaeton,  she  desired  me  to  write  some 
verses  on  her  ponies ;  upon  which  I  took  out  my  pocket- 
book,  and  in  one  moment  produced  the  following  : 

Sure  never  were  seen  two  such  beautiful  ponies  ; 
Other  horses  are  clowns,  but  these  maccaronies  : 
To  give  them  this  title  I'm  sure  is  not  wrong, 
Their  legs  are  so  slim,  and  their  tails  are  so  long. 

[Going  L. 

Crab.  There,  ladies,  done  in  the  smack  of  a  whip,  and  on 
horseback,  too. 

Joseph  S.  [R.]  A  very  Phoebus,  mounted — indeed,  Sir  Ben- 
jamin. 

Sir  B.  O  dear,  sir !  trifles— trifles. 
Mrs.  C.  I  must  have  a  copy. 

SERVANT  enters. 
Serv.  {Announcing. ~\  Lady  Teazle  ! 

Enter  LADY  TEAZLE. 

Lady  S.  Lady  Teazle !  [Saluting  LADY  TEAZLE  on  both 
cheeks.]  I  hope  we  shall  see  Sir  Peter  ? 

Lady  T.  I  believe  he'll  wait  on  your  ladyship  presently. 

[Goes  L. 

.  Mrs.  C.  [Advancing  with  CRABTREE  and  SIR  BENJAMIN.] 
Now,  I'll  die,  but  you  are  all  so  scandalous,  I'll  forswear  your 
society. 

Lady  T.  What's  the  matter,  Mrs.  Candour? 

24 


THE  SCHOOL  FOR  SCANDAL. 

Mrs.  C.  [L.  C.]  They'll  not  allow  our  friend,  Miss  Vermilion, 
to  be  handsome. 

Lady  S.  [R.  C.]  Oh,  surely,  she  is  a  pretty  woman. 

Crab.  [R.]  I  am  very  glad  you  think  so,  ma'am. 

Mrs.  C.  She  has  a  charming  fresh  color. 

Lady  T.   [Crosses,  C.]  Yes,  when  it  is  fresh  put  on. 

Mrs.  C.  Oh,  fie  !  I'll  swear  her  color  is  natural :  I  have 
seen  it  come  and  go. 

Lady  T.  I  dare  swear  you  have,  ma'am  :  it  goes  off  at  night, 
and  comes  again  in  the  morning.  [Crosses  to  C. 

Mrs.  C.  Ha  !  ha  !  ha  !  How  I  hate  to  hear  you  talk  so  !  But 
surely  now,  her  sister  is,  or  was,  very  handsome. 

Crab.  Who  ?  Mrs.  Evergreen  ?  O  Lord  !  she's  six  and  fifty 
if  she's  an  hour.  [Crosses  L.  c. 

Mrs.  C.  Now  positively  you  wrong  her  ;  fifty-two  or  fifty- 
three  is  the  utmost — and  I  don't  think  she  looks  more. 

Sir  B.  [R.  C.]  Ah  !  there's  no  judging  by  her  looks,  unless 
one  could  see  her  face. 

Mrs.  C.  [Crosses  C.]  Well,  well,  if  Mrs.  Evergreen  does 
take  some  pains  to  repair  the  ravages  of  time,  you  must  allow 
she  effects  it  with  great  ingenuity ;  and  surely  that's  better 
than  the  careless  manner  in  which  the  widow  Ochre  calks  her 
wrinkles. 

Sir  B.  Come,  come,  'tis  not  that  she  paints  so  ill — but  when 
she  has  finished  her  face  she  joins  it  on  so  badly  to  her  neck 
that  she  looks  like  a  mended  statue,  in  which  the  connoisseur 
may  see  at  once  that  the  head  is  modern,  though  the  trunk  is 
antique. 

Crab.  Ha  !  ha  !  ha  !     Well  said,  nephew  ! 

[Music  is  heard  in  the  inner  room  and  the  guests  pass  to 
and  fro  J\ 

Mrs.  C.  Ha  !  ha  !  ha  !  Well,  you  make  me  laugh  ;  but  I  vow 
I  hate  you  for  it.  What  do  you  think  of  Miss  Simper  ? 

Sir  B.  Why,  she  has  very  pretty  teeth. 

Lady  T.  Yes,  and  on  that  account,  when  she  is  neither 
speaking  nor  laughing  (which  very  seldom  happens),  she  never 
absolutely  shuts  her  mouth,  but  leaves  it  always  ajar,  as  it 
were — thus.  [Shows  her  teeth. 

25 


THE  SCHOOL  FOR  SCANDAL. 

Mrs.  C.  How  can  you  be  so  ill-natured  ? 

Lady  T.  Nay,  I  allow  even  that's  better  than  the  pains  Mrs. 
Prim  takes  to  conceal  her  losses  in  front.  She  draws  her  mouth 
till  it  positively  resembles  the  aperture  of  a  poor's  box,  and  all 
her  words  appear  to  slide  out  edgewise,  as  it  were — thus, 
How  do  you  do,  madam  ?  Yes,  madam.  {Mimics. 

Lady  S.  Very  well,  Lady  Teazle  ;  I  see  you  can  be  a  little 
severe. 

Servant.  {Announcesl\    Sir  Peter  Teazle. 

Lady  T.  O  lud  !  here  comes  Sir  Peter  to  spoil  our  pleas- 
antry. {Crosses  R. 
Enter  SIR  PETER  TEAZLE. 

Sir  P.  Ladies,  your  most  obedient.  {Aside.'}  Mercy  on 
me  !  here  is  the  whole  set  !  a  character  dead  at  every  word,  I 
suppose. 

Mrs.  C.  I  am  rejoiced  you  are  come,  Sir  Peter.  They  have 
been  so  censorious — they'll  allow  good  qualities  to  nobody. 

Sir  P.  That  must  be  very  distressing  to  you,  indeed,  Mrs. 
Candour. 

Mrs.  C.  Not  even  good-nature  to  our  friend  Mrs.  Pursy. 

Lady  T.  [C.]  What,  the  fat  dowager  who  was  at  Mrs. 
Quadrille's  last  night? 

Mrs.  C.  Nay,  but  her  bulk  is  her  misfortune  ;  and  wheii  she 
takes  such  pains  to  get  rid  of  it,  you  ought  not  to  reflect  on 
her. 

Lady  S.  That's  very  true,  indeed. 

Lady  T.  Yes,  I  know  she  almost  lives  on  acids  and  small 
whey  ;  laces  herself  by  pulleys  ;  and  often  in  the  hottest  noon 
in  summer  you  may  see  her  on  a  little  squat  pony,  with  her 
hair  plaited  up  behind  like  a  drummer's,  and  puffing  round  the 
Ring  on  a  full  trot.  {Imitates,  going  R. 

Mrs.  C.  I  thank  you,  Lady  Teazle,  for  defending  her. 

Sir  P.  Yes,  a  good  defence  truly  ! 

Sir  B.  Ah  !  you  are  both  of  you  too  good-natured  ! 

Sir  P.  Yes,  confoundedly  good-natured  !  {Goes  L. 

Sir  B.  And  Mrs.  Candour  is  of  so  moral  a  turn. 

Mrs.  C.  Well,  I  will  never  join  ridiculing  a  friend  ;  and  so  I 

26 


T&E  SCHOOL  FOR  SCANDAL. 

constantly  tell  my  cousin  Ogle  ;  and  you  all  know  what  preten- 
sions she  has  to  be  critical  on  beauty. 

Crab.  Oh,  to  be  sure  !  she  has  herself  the  oddest  counte- 
nance that  ever  was  seen  ;  'tis  a  collection  of  features  from  all 
the  different  countries  of  the  globe. 

Sir  B.  So  she  has,  indeed — an  Irish  front. 

Crab.   Caledonian  locks — 

Sir  B.  Dutch  nose — 

Crab.  Austrian  lips — 

Sir  B.  Complexion  of  a  Spaniard — 

Crab.  And  teeth  a  la  Chinois — 

Sir  B.  In  short,  her  face  resembles  a  table  d'hdte  at  Spa — 
where  no  two  guests  are  of  a  nation — 

Crab.  Or  a  congress  at  the  close  of  a  general  war — wherein 
all  the  members,  even  to  her  eyes,  appear  to  have  a  different 
interest,  and  her  nose  and  chin  are  the  only  parties  likely  to 
join  issue. 

Mrs.  C.   Ha !  ha  !  ha  ! 

Sir  P.  Mercy  on  my  life  ! — a  person  they  dine  with  twice  a 
week.  [Aside. 

Mrs.  C.  Nay,  but  I  vow  you  shall  not  carry  the  laugh  off  so 
— for,  give  me  leave  to  say,  that  Mrs.  Ogle — 

Sir  P.  [Crosses  C.  to  MRS.  CANDOUR.]  Madam,  madam,  I 
beg  your  pardon — there's  no  stopping  these  good  gentle- 
men's tongues.  But  when  I  tell  you,  Mrs.  Candour,  that  the 
lady  they  are  abusing  is  a  particular  friend  of  mine,  I  hope 
you'll  not  take  her  part. 

[MRS.  CANDOUR  goes  up  the  stage. 

Lady  S.  Ha  !  ha  !  ha  !  Well  said,  Sir  Peter  !  but  you  are  a 
cruel  creature — too  phlegmatic  yourself  for  a  jest,  and  too 
peevish  to  allow  wit  in  others. 

Sir  P.  Ah !  madam,  true  wit  is  more  nearly  allied  to  good- 
nature than  your  ladyship  is  aware  of. 

[Goes  up  and  joins  MRS.  CANDOUR. 

Lady  T.  True,  Sir  Peter  ;  I  believe  they  are  so  near  akin 
that  they  can  never  be  united. 

Sir  B.  Or  rather,  suppose  them  man  and  wife,  because  one 
so  seldom  sees  them  together. 

27 


THE  SCHOOL   FOR  SCANDAL. 

Lady  T.  But  Sir  Peter  is  such  an  enemy  to  scandal,  I  believe 
he  would  have  it  put  down  by  parliament. 

[MRS.  CANDOUR  and  LADY  SNEERWELL  come  down  each 
side  of  SIR  PETER. 

Sir  P.  'Fore  heaven,  madam,  I  would,  and  then  no  person 
should  be  permitted  to  kill  characters  and  run  down  reputation 
but  [between  MRS.  CANDOUR  and  LADY  SNEERWELL]  quali- 
fied old  maids  and  disappointed  widows.  [Goes  L. 

Lady  S.  Go,  you  monster  ! 

Mrs.  C.  But  surely  you  would  not  be  quite  so  severe  on 
those  who  only  report  what  they  hear  ? 

Sir  P.  Yes,  madam,  I  would  have  law  for  them  too  ;  and  in 
all  cases  of  slander  currency,  whenever  the  drawer  of  the  lie 
was  not  to  be  found,  the  injured  parties  should  have  a  right  to 
come  on  any  of  the  indorsers. 

SERVANT  enters  L.  and  whispers  SIR  PETER. 

Crab.  Well,  for  my  part,  I  believe  there  never  was  a  scan- 
dalous tale  without  some  foundation. 

All.  Never  !  Never  ! 

Sir  P.  Nine  times  out  of  ten  founded  on  some  idle  rumor 
or  groundless  misrepresentation.  [To  the  SERVANT.]  I'll  be 
with  them  directly.  \_Exit  SERVANT.]  I'll  get  away  unper- 
ceived.  [Apart  and  going  L. 

Lady  S.  Sir  Peter,  you  are  not  going  to  leave  us  just  as  the 
dance  begins. 

Sir  P.  Your  ladyship  must  excuse  me  ;  I'm  called  away  by 
particular  business.  But  I  leave  my  character  behind  me. 

\_Exit  SIR  PETER,  L. 

Sir  B.  Well — certainly,  Lady  Teazle,  that  lord  of  yours  is  a 
strange  being  ;  I  could  tell  you  some  stories  of  him  that  would 
make  you  laugh  heartily,  if  he  were  not  your  husband. 

Lady  T.  Oh,  pray  don't  mind  that ; — why  don't  you  ? — 
Come,  do  let's  hear  them.  [They  all  go  up  C.,  joining the  rest 
of  the  company  going  into  the  inner  room.~\ 

Joseph  S.  [Coming  down  from  R.  to  L.  with  MARIA.] 
Maria,  I  see  you  have  no  satisfaction  in  this  society. 

28 


THE  SCHOOL  FOR  SCANDAL. 

Maria.  [L.]  How  is  it  possible  I  should  ? — If  to  raise  mali- 
cious smiles  at  the  infirmities  or  misfortunes  of  those  who 
have  never  injured  us  be  the  province  of  wit  or  humor 
Heaven  grant  me  a  double  portion  of  dulness  ! 

Joseph  S.  But  can  you,  Maria,  feel  thus  for  others,  and  be 
unkind  to  me  alone  ? — Is  hope  to  be  denied  the  tenderest  pas- 
sion ? 

Maria.  Why  will  you  distress  me  by  renewing  this  subject  ? 

Joseph  S.  Ah,  Maria  !  you  would  not  treat  me  thus,  and 
oppose  your  guardian,  Sir  Peter's  will,  but  that  I  see  that 
profligate  Charles  is  still  a  favored  rival. 

Maria.  Ungenerously  urged  !  [Crossing  nJ]  But  whatever 
my  sentiments  are  for  that  unfortunate  young  man,  be  assured 
I  shall  not  feel  more  bound  to  give  him  up  because  his  dis- 
tresses have  lost  him  the  regard  even  of  a  brother. 

\Goingup. 

Joseph  S.  [Following  her  and  getting  R.]  Nay,  but,  Maria, 
do  not  leave  me  with  a  frown  :  by  all  that's  honest,  I  swear. 
[Kneels. ~\  Gad's  life,  here's  Lady  Teazle  ! — You  must  not — 
no,  you  shall  not — for,  though  I  have  the  greatest  regard  for 
Lady  Teazle [LADY  TEAZLE  advances  L.  C. 

Maria.  Lady  Teazle  ! 

Joseph  S.  Yet,  were  Sir  Peter  to  suspect — 

Lady  T.  What  is  this,  pray  ?  [MARIA  goes  L.]  Child,  you 
are  wanted  in  the  next  room.  [Exit  MARIA,  C.] — What  is  all 
this,  pray  ? 

Joseph  S.  Oh,  the  most  unlucky  circumstance  in  nature  ! 
Maria  has  somehow  suspected  the  tender  concern  I  have  for 
your  happiness,  and  threatened  to  acquaint  Sir  Peter  with  her 
suspicions,  and  I  was  just  endeavoring  to  reason  with  her  when 
you  came  in. 

Lady  T.  Indeed  !  but  you  seemed  to  adopt  a  very  tender 
method  of  reasoning — do  you  usually  argue  on  your  knees  ? 

Joseph  S.  Oh,  she's  a  child,  and  I  thought  a  little  bombast 
But,  Lady  Teazle,  when  are  you  to  give  me  your  judg- 
ment on  my  library,  as  you  promised. 

Lady  T.  No,  no  ;  I  begin  to  think  it  would  be  imprudent, 
and  although  one  must  not  be  out  of  the  fashion,  I  have  so  many 

29 


THE   SCHOOL  FOR  SCANDAL. 

of  my  country  prejudices  left,  that,  though  Sir  Peter's  ill-humor 
may  vex  me  ever  so  much,  it  never  shall  provoke  me  to 

Joseph  S.  The  only  revenge  in  your  power.  Well,  I  ap- 
plaud your  moderation. 

Lady  T.  Go — you  are  an  insinuating  wretch.  [Crosses  R.] — 
But  we  shall  be  missed — let  us  join  the  company. 

Joseph  S.  But  we  had  better  not  return  together. 

Lady  T.  Well — don't  stay ;  for  Maria  shan't  come  to  hear 
any  more  of  your  reasoning,  I  promise  you. 

[LADY  TEAZLE  goes  up  c.     Music  of  Minuet. 

Joseph  S.  A  curious  dilemma,  truly,  my  politics  have  run 
me  into  !  I  wanted  at  first  only  to  ingratiate  myself  with 
Lady  Teazle,  that  she  might  not  be  my  enemy  with  Maria ; 
and  I  have,  I  don't  know  how,  become  her  serious  lover. 
Sincerely,  I  begin  to  wish  I  had  never  made  such  a  point  of 
gaining  so  very  good  a  character,  for  it  has  led  me  into  so 
many  confounded  rogueries,  that  I  doubt  I  shall  be  exposed 
at  last.  {Exit  R.  as  Minuet  begins. 

THE  CURTAIN  FALLS  AT  THE  END  OF  THE  DANCE. 

30 


ACT  II. 

SCENE  I.— SIR    PETER'S    House.     An    elegant    Saloon.    En- 
trances R.  and  L. 

Enter  LADY  TEAZLE  and  SIR  PETER,  L. 

Sir  P.  Lady  Teazle,  I'll  not  bear  it. 

LadyT.  [L.]  Sir  Peter,  Sir  Peter,  you  may  bear  it  or  not,  as 
you  please  ;  but  I  ought  to  have  my  own  way  in  everything  ; 
and  what's  more,  I  will,  too.  What !  though  I  was  educated 
in  the  country,  I  know  very  well  that  women  of  fashion  in 
London  are  accountable  to  nobody  after  they  are  married. 

Sir  P.  [R.]  Very  well,  ma'am,  very  well — so  a  husband  is 
to  have  no  influence,  no  authority  ? 

Lady  T.  Authority  !  No,  to  be  sure  : — if  you  wanted  au- 
thority over  me,  you  should  have  adopted  me,  and  not  married 
me  :  I  am  sure  you  were  old  enough. 

[Crosses  R.  with  a  sly  laugh. 

Sir  P.  Old  enough! — ay — there  it  is.  Well,  well,  Lady 
Teazle,  though  my  life  may  be  made  unhappy  by  your  temper, 
I'll  not  be  ruined  by  your  extravagance. 

Lady  T.  [Arranging  her  hat  at  mirror,  R.]  My  extrava- 
gance !  I'm  sure  I'm  not  more  extravagant  than  a  woman 
ought  to  be. 

Sir  P.  No,  no,  madam,  you  shall  throw  away  no  more 
sums  on  such  unmeaning  luxury.  'Slife  !  to  spend  as  much 
to  furnish  your  dressing-room  with  flowers  in  winter  as  would 
suffice  to  give  a  fete  champetre  at  Christmas. 

Lady  T.  Lord,  Sir  Peter,  am  I  to  blame,  because  flowers 
are  dear  in  cold  weather  !  You  should  find  fault  with  the 
climate,  and  not  with  me.  For  my  part,  I  am  sure,  I  wish  it 

3* 


THE  SCHOOL  FOR  SCANDAL. 

was  spring  all  the  year  round,  and  that  roses  grew  under  our 
feet!  [Goes  L. 

Sir  P.  Oons  !  madam,  if  you  had  been  born  to  this,  I 
shouldn't  wonder  at  your  talking  thus  ;  but  you  forget  what 
your  situation  was  when  I  married  you. 

Lady  T.  No,  no,  I  don't ;  'twas  a  very  disagreeable  one,  or 
I  should  never  have  married  you.  [Sits. 

Sir  P.  Yes,  yes,  madam,  you  were  then  in  somewhat  a 
humbler  style  : — the  daughter  of  a  plain  country  squire. 
Recollect,  Lady  Teazle,  when  I  saw  you  first,  sitting  at  your 
tambour,  in  a  pretty  figured  linen  gown,  with  a  bunch  of  keys 
at  your  side ;  your  hair  combed  smooth  over  a  roll,  and  your 
apartment  hung  round  with  fruits  in  worsted  of  your  own 
working. 

Lady  T.  Oh,  yes  !  I  remember  it  very  well,  and  a  curious 
life  I  led.  My  daily  occupation  to  inspect  the  dairy,  superin- 
tend the  poultry,  make  extracts  from  the  family  receipt-book, 
and  comb  my  aunt  Deborah's  lap-dog. 

Sir  P.  Yes,  yes,  ma'am,  'twas  so,  indeed.  {Sits  R. 

Lady  T.  And  then,  you  know,  my  evening  amusements ! 
To  draw  patterns  for  ruffles  which  I  had  not  materials  to  make 
up  ;  to  read  a  novel  to  my  aunt ;  {Rises. "\  or  to  be  stuck  down 
to  an  old  spinet  to  strum  my  father  to  sleep  after  a  fox-chase. 

[Goes  L. 

Sir  P.  [R.]  I  am  glad  you  have  so  good  a  memory. 
{Rises. ~\  Yes,  madam,  these  were  the  recreations  I  took  you 
from  ;  but  now  you  must  have  your  coach — vis-a-vis — and 
three  powdered  footmen  before  your  chair ;  and  in  the  sum- 
mer a  pair  of  white  cats  to  draw  you  to  Kensington  gardens. 
No  recollection,  I  suppose,  when  you  were  content  to  ride 
double,  behind  the  butler  on  a  dock'd  coach-horse. 

Lady  T.  [c.]  No — I  swear  I  never  did  that :  I  deny  the 
butler  and  the  coach -horse.  [Goes  L. 

Sir  P.  This,  madam,  was  your  situation  ;  and  what  have  I 
done  for  you  ?  I  have  made  you  a  woman  of  fashion,  of  for- 
tune, of  rank ;  in  short,  I  have  made  you  my  wife. 

Lady  T.  Well,  then — and  there  is  but  one  thing  more  you 

can  make  me  add  to  the  obligation,  and  that  is 

32 


THE  SCHOOL  FOR  SCANDAL. 

Sir  P.    My  widow,  I  suppose  ? 

Lady  T.   Hem  !  hem  !  [Crosses  R. 

Sir  P.  I  thank  you,  madam — but  don't  flatter  yourself;  for 
though  your  ill-conduct  may  disturb  my  peace  of  mind,  it 
shall  never  break  my  heart,  I  promise  you  :  however,  I  am 
equally  obliged  to  you  for  the  hint. 

Lady  T.  Then  why  will  you  endeavor  to  make  yourself  so 
disagreeable  to  me,  and  thwart  me  in  every  little  elegant  ex- 
pense ?  [Going  c. 

Sir  P.  [R.]  'Slife,  madam,  I  say,  had  you  any  of  these  little 
elegant  expenses  when  you  married  me  ? 

Lady  T.  Lud,  Sir  Peter  !  would  you  have  me  be  out  of  the 
fashion  ? 

Sir  P.  The  fashion,  indeed  !  What  had  you  to  do  with  the 
fashion  before  you  married  me  ? 

Lady  T.  For  my  part,  I  should  think  you  would  like  to  have 
your  wife  thought  a  woman  of  taste. 

Sir  P.  Ay — there  again — taste  !  Zounds  !  madam,  you  had 
no  taste  when  you  married  me  ! 

Lady  T.  [Laughs  heartily  at  him,  and  he  goes  round  to  R.] 
That's  very  true  indeed,  Sir  Peter,  and  after  having  married 
you  I  should  never  pretend  to  taste,  again,  I  allow.  But  now, 
Sir  Peter,  since  we  have  finished  our  daily  jangle,  I  presume  I 
may  go  to  my  engagement  at  Lady  Sneerwell's. 

Sir  P.  Ay,  there's  another  precious  circumstance — a  charm- 
ing set  of  acquaintance  you  have  made  there. 

Lady  T.  Nay,  Sir  Peter,  they  are  all  people  of  rank  and  for- 
tune, and  remarkably  tenacious  of  reputation. 

Sir  P.  Yes,  egad,  they  are  tenacious  of  reputation  with  a 
vengeance  :  for  they  don't  choose  anybody  should  have  a  char- 
acter but  themselves  ! — Such  a  crew  !  Ah  !  many  a  wretch 
has  rid  on  a  hurdle  who  has  done  less  mischief  than  these  ut- 
terers  of  forged  tales,  coiners  of  scandal,  and  clippers  of  reputa- 
tion. [Crosses  L. 

Lady  T.  What  !  would  you  restrain  the  freedom  of 
speech  ? 

Sir  P..  Ah  !  they  have  made  you  just  as  bad  as  any  one  of 
the  society. 

33 


THE   SCHOOL   FOR  SCANDAL. 

Lady  T.  Why,  I  believe  I  do  bear  a  part  with  a  tolerable 
grace.  [At  mirror. 

Sir  P.   Grace,  indeed  ! 

Lady  T.  [Coming  C.]  But  I  vow  I  bear  no  malice  against 
the  people  I  abuse.  When  I  say  an  ill-natured  thing  'tis  out 
of  pure  good  humor';  and  I  take  it  for  granted  they  deal  ex- 
actly in  the  same  manner  with  me. 

Sir  P.  Well,  well,  I'll  call  in  just  to  look  after  my  own  char- 
acter. 

Lady  T.  Then  indeed  you  must  make  haste  after  me,  or 
you'll  be  too  late.  So  good-by  to  ye.  [Exit  LADY  TEAZLE,  L. 

Sir  P.  [Sits  C.]  So,  I  have  gained  much  by  my  intended 
expostulation  :  yet,  with  what  a  charming  air  she  contradicts 
everything  I  say,  and  how  pleasingly  she  shows  her  contempt 
for  my  authority  !  Well,  though  I  can't  make  her  love  me, 
there  is  great  satisfaction  in  quarrelling  with  her ;  and  I  think 
she  never  appears  to  such  advantage  as  when  she  is  doing 
everything  in  her  power  to  plague  me. 

Enter  ROWLEY,  L.  D. 

Rowley.  Oh  !  Sir  Peter,  your  servant ;  how  is  it  with  you, 
sir  ? 

Sir  P.  [Taking  snuff. ~\  Very  bad,  Master  Rowley,  very 
bad.  I  meet  with  nothing  but  crosses  and  vexations. 

Roiv.   [L.]  What  can  have  happened  since  yesterday  ? 

Sir  P.  A  good  question  to  a  married  man  ! 

Row.  Nay,  I'm  sure,  Sir  Peter,  your  lady  cannot  be  the 
cause  of  your  uneasiness. 

Sir  P.  Why,  has  anybody  told  you  she  was  dead  ?      [Rises. 

Row.  Come,  come,  Sir  Peter,  you  love  her,  notwithstand- 
ing your  tempers  don't  exactly  agree. 

Sir  P.  But  the  fault  is  entirely  hers,  Master  Rowley.  I  am, 
myself,  the  sweetest  tempered  man  alive,  and  hate  a  teasing 
temper  :  and  so  I  tell  her  a  hundred  times  a  day. 

Row.  Indeed  ! 

Sir  P.  Ay  !  and  what  is  very  extraordinary,  in  all  our  dis- 
putes she  is  always  in  the  wrong  !  Then,  to  complete  my  vex- 
ations, Maria,  my  ward,  whom  I  ought  to  have  the  power  of  a 

34 


THE   SCHOOL   FOR   SCANDAL. 

father  over,  is  determined  to  turn  rebel  too,  and  absolutely  re- 
fuses the  man  whom  I  have  long  resolved  on  for  her  husband  ; 
meaning,  I  suppose,  to  bestow  herself  on  his  profligate  brother. 

Row.  You  know,  sir,  I  have  always  taken  the  liberty  to 
differ  with  you  on  the  subject  of  these  two  young  gentle- 
men. 

Sir  P.  [Sits  C.]  You  are  wrong,  Master  Rowley.  On  their 
father's  death,  you  know,  I  acted  as  a  kind  of  guardian  to  them 
both,  till  their  uncle  Sir  Oliver's  Eastern  liberality  gave  them 
an  early  independence  :  of  course,  no  person  could  have  more 
opportunities  of  judging  of  their  hearts,  and  I  was  never  mis- 
taken in  my  life.  Joseph  is  indeed  a  model  for  the  young 
men  of  the  age.  He  is  a  man  of  sentiment,  and  acts  up  to  the 
sentiments  he  professes  ;  but  for  the  other,  take  my  word  for't, 
if  he  had  any  grain  of  virtue  by  descent,  he  has  dissipated  it 
with  the  rest  of  his  inheritance. 

Row.  I  am  sorry  to  find  you  so  violent  against  the  young 
man,  because  this  may  be  the  most  critical  period  of  his  for- 
tune. I  came  hither  with  news  that  will  surprise  you. 

Sir  P.  What !  let  me  hear. 

Row.  Sir  Oliver  is  arrived,  and  at  this  moment  in  town. 
Indeed,  he  will  be  shortly  with  you. 

Sir  P.  How  ! — {Rises.]  You  astonish  me  !  I  thought  you 
did  not  expect  him  this  month. 

Row.  I  did  not ;  but  his  passage  has  been  remarkably  quick. 
He  will  make  his  first  call  on  you. 

Sir  P.  Egad,  I  shall  rejoice  to  see  my  old  friend.  'Tis  six- 
teen years  since  we  met.  We  have  had  many  a  day  together. 
But  does  he  still  enjoin  us  not  to  inform  his  nephews  of  his 
arrival  ? 

Row.  Most  strictly.  He  means,  before  it  is  known,  to  make 
some  trial  of  their  dispositions. 

Sir  P.  Ah  !  there  needs  no  art  to  discover  their  merits — 
however,  he  shall  have  his  way ;  but,  pray,  does  he  know  I 
am  married  ? 

Row.  Yes,  and  will  soon  wish  you  joy. 

Sir  P.  [Crosses  L.]  What,  as  we  drink  health  to  a  friend  in 
a  consumption  !  Ah  !  Oliver  will  laugh  at  me.  We  used  to 

35 


THE  SCHOOL  FOR   SCANDAL. 

rail  at  matrimony  together  :  but  he  has  been  steady  to  his 
text.  Well,  I'll  instantly  give  orders  for  his  reception.  But, 
Master  Rowley,  don't  drop  a  word  that  Lady  Teazle  and  I 
ever  disagree. 

Row.  By  no  means. 

Sir  P.  For  I  should  never  be  able  to  stand  Noll's  jokes  ;  so 
I'd  have  him  think,  Lord  forgive  me  !  that  we  are  a  very 
happy  couple. 

Row.  I  understand  you.  But  then  you  must  be  very  care- 
ful not  to  differ  while  he  is  in  the  house  with  you. 

Sir  P.  Egad,  and  so  we  must — and  that's  impossible.  Ah  ! 
Master  Rowley,  when  an  old  bachelor  marries  a  young  wife 
he  deserves — no,  the  crime  carries  its  punishment  along  with 
it.  [Crosses  R. 

Enter  SERVANT,  L.  D. 

Ser.  Sir  Oliver  Surface,  sir,  is  below,  Sir  Peter.  {Exit. 

Row.  Come,  let  us  go  to  him. 

Sir  P.  No,  no,  Master  Rowley,  I'd  never  dare  to  face  Noll  at 
this  moment.  {Piishing  him  L.]  Go  you  and  receive  him 
till  I  can  regain  my  composure.  And,  Rowley,  break  the 
news  of  my  marriage  infelicity  to  him  gently.  Take  the  edge 
of  his  ridicule  upon  yourself,  so  that  when  we  meet  his  jests 
will  be  easier  to  bear.  Go  to  him.  \Exit  ROWLEY,  L. 

Sir  P.  When  an  old  bachelor  marries  a  young  wife,  what  is 
he  to  expect  ?  'Tis  now  six  months  since  Lady  Teazle  made 
me  the  happiest  of  men — and  I  have  been  the  most  miserable 
dog  ever  since  !  We  tiffed  a  little  going  to  church,  and  came  to 
a  quarrel  before  the  bells  had  done  ringing.  I  was  more  than 
once  nearly  choked  with  gall  during  the  honeymoon,  and  had 
lost  all  comfort  in  life  before  my  friends  had  done  wishing  me 
joy.  I  am  sneered  at  by  all  my  acquaintance,  and  paragraphed 
in  the  newspapers.  She  dissipates  my  fortune,  and  contradicts 
all  my  humors  :  yet,  the  worst  of  it  is,  I  doubt  I  love  her,  or  I 
should  never  bear  all  this.  However,  I'll  never  be  weak 
enough  to  own  it.  {Exit  SIR  PETER,  R. 


THE   SCHOOL   FOR   SCANDAL. 


Enter  SIR  OLIVER  SURFACE  and  ROWLEY,  L. 

Sir  O.  [R.]  Ha  !  ha  !  ha  !  So  my  old  friend  is  married,  hey  ? 
young  wife  out  of  the  country — Ha  !  ha  !  ha  !  That  he 
should  have  stood  bluff  to  old  bachelor  so  long,  and  sink  into 
a  husband  at  last. 

Row.  [L.]  But  you  must  not  rally  him  on  the  subject,  Sir 
Oliver :  'tis  a  tender  point,  I  assure  you,  though  he  has  been 
married  only  seven  months. 

Sir  O.  Then  he  has  been  just  half  a  year  on  the  stool  of  re- 
pentance !  Poor  Peter  !  [Sits  C.]  But  you  say  he  has  en- 
tirely given  up  Charles — never  sees  him,  hey  ? 

Row.  His  prejudice  against  him  is  astonishing,  and  I  am 
sure,  greatly  increased  by  a  jealousy  of  him  with  Lady  Teazle, 
which  he  has  been  industriously  led  into  by  a  scandalous 
society  in  the  neighborhood,  who  have  contributed  not  a  little 
to  Charles'  ill  name.  Whereas  the  truth  is,  I  believe,  if  the 
lady  is  partial  to  either  of  them,  his  brother  is  the  favorite. 

Sir  O.  [R.]  Ay,  I  know  there  are  a  set  of  malicious,  prating, 
impudent  gossips,  both  male  and  female,  who  murder  charac- 
ters to  kill  time,  and  will  rob  a  young  fellow  of  his  good  name 
before  he  has  years  to  know  the  value  of  it.  But  I  am  not  to 
be  prejudiced  against  my  nephew  by  such,  I  promise  you. 
No,  no,  if  Charles  has  done  nothing  false  or  mean,  I  shall 
compound  for  his  extravagance. 

Row.  [L.]  Then,  my  life  on't  you  will  reclaim  him.  Ah, 
sir  !  it  gives  me  new  life  to  find  that  your  heart  is  not  turned 
against  him  ;  and  that  the  son  of  my  good  old  master  has 
one  friend,  however,  left. 

Sir  O.  [Rises.~\  What,  shall  I  forget,  Master  Rowley,  when 
I  was  at  his  years  myself?  Egad,  my  brother  and  I  were 
neither  of  us  very  prudent  youths  :  and  yet,  I  believe,  you 
have  not  seen  many  better  men  than  your  old  master  was. 

Row.  Sir,  'tis  this  reflection  gives  me  assurance  that  Charles 
may  yet  be  a  credit  to  his  family.  [Looking  off^J]  But  here 
comes  Sir  Peter.  [Goes  a  little  up. 

Sir  O.  Egad,  so  he  does.     Mercy  on  me  ! — he's  greatly  al- 

37 


THE   SCHOOL  FOR   SCANDAL. 

tered — and  seems  to  have  a  settled  married  look  !     One  may 
read  husband  in  his  face  at  this  distance  ! 


Enter  SIR  PETER  TEAZLE,  R. 

Sir  P.  [R.]  Hah  !  Sir  Oliver — my  old  friend !  Welcome 
to  England  a  thousand  times  ! 

Sir  0.  [L.]  Thank  you — thank  you,  Sir  Peter  !  and  i'faith 
I'm  glad  to  find  you  well,  believe  me. 

Sir  P.  [R.]  Oh  !  tis  a  long  time  since  we  met — fifteen  years, 
I  doubt,  Sir  Oliver,  and  many  a  cross  accident  in  the  time. 

Sir  0.  Ay,  I  have  had  my  share. — But  what  !  I  find  you 
are  married,  hey,  my  old  boy  ?  Well,  well — it  can't  be  helped 
— and  so —  I  wish  you  joy  with  all  my  heart. 

[SERVANT  serves  wine  to  SIR  PETER  and  SIR  OLIVER. 

Sir  P.  \Sits  J\  Thank  you,  thank  you,  Sir  Oliver.  Yes,  I 
have  entered  into — the  happy  state  ;  but  we'll  not  talk  of  that 
now. 

Sir  O.  \Sits. ~\  True,  true,  Sir  Peter  :  old  friends  should  not 
begin  on  grievances  at  first  meeting — no,  no,  no. 

Row.  [L.]  Take  care,  pray,  sir. 

Sir  O.  Well,  so  one  of  my  nephews  is  a  wild  rogue,  I  find, 
hey? 

Sir  P.  Wild  !  Ah  !  my  old  friend,  I  grieve  for  your  disap- 
pointment there  ;  he's  a  lost  young  man,  indeed.  However, 
his  brother  will  make  you  amends.  Joseph  is,  indeed,  what  a 
youth  should  be.  Everybody  in  the  world  speaks  well  of 
him.  [SERVANT  takes  wine  away. 

Sir  0.  I  am  sorry  to  hear  it ;  he  has  too  good  a  character  to 
be  an  honest  fellow.  Everybody  speaks  well  of  him  ! — Pshaw  ! 
then  he  has  bowed  as  low  to  knaves  and  fools  as  to  the  honest 
dignity  of  genius  and  virtue. 

Sir  P.  What,  Sir  Oliver !  do  you  blame  him  for  not  mak- 
ing enemies  ? 

Sir  0.  Yes,  if  he  has  merit  enough  to  deserve  them.  But, 
however,  don't  mistake  me,  Sir  Peter ;  I  don't  mean  to  defend 
Charles's  errors;  but  before  I  form  my  judgment  of  either  of 

38 


THE  SCHOOL  FOR  SCANDAL. 

them,  I  intend  to  make  a  trial  of  their  hearts ;  and  my  friend 
Rowley  and  I  have  planned  something  for  the  purpose. 

Row.  And  Sir  Peter  shall  own  for  once  he  has  been  mis- 
taken. 

Sir  P.  Oh  !  my  life  on  Joseph's  honor. 

Sir  O.  And  my  life  on  the  other. 

Sir  P.  Well,  well,  but  this  plan  of  yours,  Mr.  Rowley. 

Row.  [L.]  Why,  sir,  it  is  this  :  There  is  a  certain  Mr.  Stan- 
ley, who  is  nearly  related  to  them  by  their  mother.  He  was 
once  a  merchant  in  Dublin,  but  has  been  ruined  by  a  series  of 
undeserved  misfortunes.  He  has  applied,  by  letter,  since  his 
confinement,  both  to  Mr.  Surface  and  Charles ;  from  the  former 
he  has  received  nothing  but  evasive  promises  of  future  service, 
while  Charles  has  done  all  that  his  extravagance  has  left  him 
power  to  do  ;  and  he  is,  at  this  time,  endeavoring  to  raise  a  sum 
of  money,  part  of  which,  in  the  midst  of  his  own  distresses,  I 
know  he  intends  for  the  service  of  poor  Stanley. 

Sir  0.    [Rises,  going  R.]  Ah  !  he  is  my  brother's  son. 

Sir  P.  Well,  but  how  is  Sir  Oliver  personally  to 

Row.  Why,  sir,  I  will  inform  Charles  and  his  brother  that 
Stanley  has  obtained  permission  to  apply  personally  to  his 
friends,  and  as  they  have  neither  of  them  ever  seen  him,  let  Sir 
Oliver  assume  his  character,  and  he  will  have  a  fair  opportu- 
nity of  judging,  at  least,  of  the  benevolence  of  their  dispo- 
sitions; and  believe  me,  sir,  you  will  find  in  the  youngest 
brother  one  who,  in  the  midst  of  folly  and  dissipation,  has  still, 
as  our  immortal  bard  expresses  it,  "a  heart  to  pity,  and  a 
hand  open  as  day  for  melting  charity."  [Goes  L. 

SERVANT  enters  and  whispers  ROWLEY. 

Sir  P.  [C.,  rising.]  Pshaw!  What  signifies  his  having  an 
open  hand  or  purse  either,  when  he  has  nothing  left  to  give  ? 
Well,  well — make  the  trial  if  you  please. 

Sir  0.  [Crosses  L.  C.]  But  where  is  the  fellow  whom  you 
brought  for  me  to  examine,  relative  to  Charles's  affairs  ? 

Row.  Below,  waiting  your  commands,  and  no  one  can  give 
you  better  intelligence.  This,  Sir  Oliver,  is  a  friendly  Jew, 

39 


THE  SCHOOL  FOR  SCANDAL. 

who,  to  do  him  justice,  has  done  everything  in  his  power  to 
bring  your  nephew  to  a  proper  sense  of  his  extravagance. 

Sir  P.  Pray,  let  us  have  him  in. 

Row.   Desire  Mr.  Moses  to  walk  up-stairs. 

[Exit  SERVANT. 

Sir  P.  But  pray,  why  should  you  suppose  he  will  tell  the 
truth  ? 

Row.  Oh  !  [Crosses  C.]  I  have  convinced  him  that  he  has 
no  chance  of  recovering  certain  sums  advanced  to  Charles  but 
through  the  bounty  of  Sir  Oliver,  who  he  knows  is  arrived ; 
so  that  you  may  depend  on  his  fidelity  to  his  own  interests  : 
I  have  also  another  evidence  in  my  power,  one  Snake,  whom 
I  have  detected  in  a  matter  little  short  of  forgery,  and  shall 
shortly  produce  to  remove  some  of  your  prejudices,  Sir  Peter, 
relative  to  Charles  and  Lady  Teazle. 

Sir  P.  I  have  heard  too  much  on  that  subject.     [Goes  up  C. 

Row.   Here  comes  the  honest  Israelite.  [Going  L. 


Enter  MOSES,  L. 

This  is  Sir  Oliver. 

Sir  O.  [c.]  Sir,  I  understand  you  have  lately  had  great 
dealings  with  my  nephew,  Charles. 

Moses.  [Crosses  to  SIR  OLIVER.]  Yes,  Sir  Oliver,  I  have 
done  all  I  could  for  him  ;  but  he  was  ruined  before  he  came  to 
me  for  assistance. 

Sir  O.  That  was  unlucky,  truly ;  for  you  had  no  opportun- 
ity of  showing  your  talents. 

Moses.  None  at  all ;  I  hadn't  the  pleasure  of  knowing  his 
distresses  till  he  was  some  thousands  worse  than  nothing. 

Sir  O.  Unfortunate,  indeed  !  But  I  suppose  you  have  done 
all  in  your  power  for  him,  honest  Moses  ? 

Moses.  Yes,  he  knows  that ; — this  very  evening  I  was  to  have 
brought  him  a  gentleman  from  the  city,  who  does  not  know 
him,  and  will,  I  believe,  advance  him  some  money. 

Sir  P.  [R.]  What,  one  Charles  never  had  money  from  be- 
fore ? 


THE  SCHOOL   FOR   SCANDAL. 

Moses.  Yes — Mr.  Premium,  of  Crutched  Friars,  formerly  a 
broker. 

Sir  P.  [Rises."]  Egad,  Sir  Oliver,  a  thought  strikes  me  ! — 
[Crosses  C.]  Charles,  you  say,  does  not  know  Mr.  Premium  ? 

Moses.  Not  at  all. 

Sir  P.  [c.]  Now  then,  Sir  Oliver,  you  may  have  a  better 
opportunity  of  satisfying  yourself  than  by  any  old  romancing 
tale  of  a  poor  relation  :  go  with  my  friend  Moses,  and  represent 
Premium,  and  then,  I'll  answer  for  it,  you'll  see  your  nephew 
in  all  his  glory. 

Sir  0.  [R.  C.]  Egad,  I  like  this  idea  better  than  the  other, 
and  I  may  visit  Joseph  afterward,  as  old  Stanley. 

Sir  P.  True,  so  you  may. 

Row.  Well,  this  is  taking  Charles  rather  at  a  disadvantage, 
to  be  sure  ;  however,  Moses,  you  understand  Sir  Peter,  and 
will  be  faithful  ? 

Moses.  You  may  depend  upon  me.  [Looks  at  his  watch. ,] 
This  is  near  the  time  I  was  to  have  gone.  [Going  up. 

Sir  O.  [Following him .]  I'll  accompany  you  as  soon  as  you 
please,  Moses.  But  hold  !  I  have  forgot  one  thing — how  the 
plague  shall  I  be  able  to  pass  for  a  Jew  ? 

Moses.  There's  no  need — the  principal  is  Christian. 

Sir  O.  Is  he  ?  I'm  very  sorry  to  hear  it.  But  then  again, 
ain't  I  rather  too  smartly  dressed  to  look  like  a  money-lender  ? 

Sir  P.  Not  at  all ;  'twould  not  be  out  of  character,  if  you 
went  in  your  own  carriage,  would  it,  Moses  ? 

Moses.  [Crosses  C.]  Not  in  the  least.  I  keeps  a  trim  little 
briskey  myself. 

Sir  0.  Well — but  how  must  I  talk  ? — there's  certainly  some 
cant  of  usury  and  mode  of  treating  that  I  ought  to  know. 

Sir  P.  Oh,  there's  not  much  to  learn.  The  great  point,  as  I 
take  it,  is  to  be  exorbitant  enough  in  your  demands — hey, 
Moses  ? 

Moses.  Yes,  that's  a  very  great  point. 

Sir  O.  I'll  answer  for't  I'll  not  be  wanting  in  that.  I'll  ask 
him  eight  or  ten  per  cent,  on  the  loan  at  least. 

Moses.  If  you  ask  him  no  more  than  that  you'll  be  discov- 
ered immediately. 


THE   SCHOOL   FOR   SCANDAL. 

« 

Sir  0.  Hey  ! — what  the  plague  ! — how  much  then  ? 

Moses.  That  depends  upon  the  circumstances.  If  he  appears 
not  very  anxious  for  the  supply,  you  should  require  only  forty 
or  fifty  per  cent.;  but  if  you  find  him  in  great  distress,  and 
want  the  moneys  very  bad,  you  may  ask  double. 

Sir  P.  A  good  honest  trade  you're  learning,  Sir  Oliver. 

Sir  O.  Truly,  I  think  so — and  not  unprofitable. 

Moses.  Then,  you  know,  you  haven't  the  moneys  yourself, 
but  are  forced  to  borrow  them  for  him  from  a  friend. 

Sir  0.  Oh  !  I  borrow  it  of  a  friend,  do  I  ? 

Moses.  Yes  ;  and  your  friend  is  an  unconscionable  dog  :  but 
you  can't  help  that. 

Sir  0.  My  friend  an  unconscionable  dog,  is  he  ? 

Moses.  Yes,  and  he  himself  has  not  the  moneys  by  him,  but 
is  forced  to  sell  stock  at  a  great  loss. 

Sir  O.  He  is  forced  to  sell  stock  at  a  great  loss,  is  he  ?  Well, 
that's  very  kind  of  him. 

Sir  P.  I'  faith,  Sir  Oliver — Mr.  Premium,  I  mean — you'll 
soon  be  master  of  the  trade. 

Sir  0.  Moses  shall  give  me  further  instructions  as  we  go  to- 
gether. 

Sir  P.  You  will  not  have  much  time,  for  your  nephew  lives 
hard  by. 

Sir  0.  Oh,  never  fear :  my  tutor  appears  so  able  that  though 
Charles  lived  in  the  next  street,  it  must  be  my  own  fault  if  I 
am  not  a  complete  rogue  before  I  turn  the  corner. 

Moses.  It  wont  be  my  fault,  Sir  Oliver,  if  you're  not  a  com- 
plete rogue  before  you  get  down-stairs. 

{Exeunt  SIR  OLIVER  SURFACE  and  MOSES,  L. 

Sir  P.  So,  now,  I  think  Sir  Oliver  will  be  convinced  :  you 
are  partial,  Rowley,  and  would  have  prepared  Charles  for  the 
other  plot. 

Row.  No,  upon  my  word,  Sir  Peter. 

Sir  P.  Well,  go  bring  me  this  Snake,  and  I'll  hear  what  he 
has  to  say,  presently.  I  see  Maria,  and  want  to  speak  with 
her.  [Exit  ROWLEY,  L.]  I  should  be  glad  to  be  convinced  my 
suspicions  of  Lady  Teazle  and  Charles  were  unjust.  I  have 
never  yet  opened  my  mind  on  this  subject  to  my  friend  Joseph 

42 


THE   SCHOOL   FOR   SCANDAL. 

—I  am  determined  I  will  do  it — he  will  give  me  his  opinion 
sincerely. 

Enter  MARIA,  L. 

So,  child,  has  Mr.  Surface  returned  with  you? 

Maria.   [L.]  No,  sir ;  he  was  engaged. 

Sir  P.  [R.]  Well,  Maria,  do  you  not  reflect,  the  more  you 
converse  with  that  amiable  young  man,  what  return  his  partial- 
ity for  you  deserves  ? 

Maria.  Indeed,  Sir  Peter,  your  frequent  importunity  on  this 
subject  distresses  me  extremely — you  compel  me  to  declare 
that  I  know  no  man  who  has  ever  paid  me  a  particular  atten- 
tion whom  I  would  not  prefer  to  Mr.  Surface. 

Sir  P.  So — here's  perverseness  !  No,  no,  Maria, 'tis  Charles 
only  whom  you  would  prefer.  'Tis  evident  his  vices  and  follies 
have  won  your  heart. 

Maria.  This  is  unkind,  sir.  You  know  I  have  obeyed  you 
in  neither  seeing  nor  corresponding  with  him :  I  have  heard 
enough  to  convince  me  that  he  is  unworthy  of  my  regard.  Yet 
I  cannot  think  it  culpable,  if,  while  my  understanding  severely 
condemns  his  vices,  my  heart  suggests  some  pity  for  his  dis- 
tresses. 

Sir  P.  Well,  well,  pity  him  as  much  as  you  please ;  but  give 
your  heart  and  hand  to  a  worthy  object. 

Maria.  Never  to  his  brother.  [Crosses,  R. 

Sir  P.  Go — perverse  and  obstinate  !  but  take  care,  madam  ; 
you  have  never  yet  known  what  the  authority  of  a  guardian  is ; 
don't  compel  me  to  inform  you  of  it. 

Maria.  I  can  only  say  you  shall  not  have  just  reason.  'Tis 
true,  by  my  father's  will,  I  am  for  a  short  period  bound  to  re- 
gard you  as  his  substitute  ;  but  I  must  cease  to  think  you  so 
when  you  would  compel  me  to  be  miserable. 

[Exit  MARIA,  R. 

Sir  P.  Was  ever  man  so  crossed  as  I  am  ?  Everything  con- 
spiring to  fret  me  !  I  had  not  been  involved  in  matrimony  a 
fortnight  before  her  father,  a  hale  and  hearty  man,  died,  on 
purpose,  I  believe,  for  the  pleasure  of  plaguing  me  with  the 

43 


THE   SCHOOL  FOR  SCANDAL. 

care  of  his  daughter.  [LADY  TEAZLE  sings  without, ,]  [SONG.] 
But  here  comes  my  helpmate  !  She  appears  in  great  good 
humor.  How  happy  I  should  be  if  I  could  tease  her  into  lov- 
ing me,  though  but  a  little  ! 

Enter  LADY  TEAZLE,  R. 

Lady  T.  Lud  !  Sir  Peter,  I  hope  you  hav'n't  been  quarrelling 
with  Maria  ?  It  is  not  using  me  well  to  be  ill-humored  when  I 
am  not  by. 

Sir  P.  [L.]  Ah  !  Lady  Teazle,  you  might  have  the  power 
to  make  me  good-humored  at  all  times. 

Lady  T.  [R.]  I  am  sure  I  wish  I  had  ;  for  I  want  you  to  be 
in  a  charming  sweet  temper  at  this  moment.  Do  be  good- 
humored  now  and  let  me  have  two  hundred  pounds,  will  you  ? 

Sir  P.  Two  hundred  pounds  !  What,  a' n't  I  to  be  in  a  good 
humor  without  paying  for  it  ?  But  speak  to  me  thus,  and 
i'faith  there's  nothing  I  could  refuse  you.  You  shall  have  it 
[Gives  her  notes]  ;  but  seal  me  a  bond  of  repayment. 

Lady  T.  Oh  no — there — my  note  of  hand  will  do  as  well. 

[Offering  her  hand. 

Sir  P.  And  you  shall  no  longer  reproach  me  with  not  giv- 
ing you  an  independent  settlement.  I  mean  shortly  to  surprise 
you  :  but  shall  we  always  live  thus,  hey  ? 

Lady  T.  If  you  please.  I'm  sure  I  don't  care  how  soon  we 
leave  off  quarrelling,  provided  you'll  own  you  were  tired  first. 

Sir  P.  Well — then  let  our  future  contest  be,  who  shall  be 
most  obliging. 

Lady  T.  I  assure  you,  Sir  Peter,  good  nature  becomes  you — 
you  look  now  as  you  did  before  we  were  married,  when  you 
used  to  walk  with  me  under  the  elms,  and  tell  me  stories  of 
what  a  gallant  you  were  in  your  youth,  and  chuck  me  under 
the  chin,  you  would  ;  and  ask  me  if  I  thought  I  could  love  an 
old  fellow,  who  would  deny  me  nothing — didn't  you  ?  Didn't 
you  ? 

Sir  P.  Yes,  yes,  and  you  were  kind  and  attentive — 

Lady  T.  Ay,  so  I  was,  and  would  always  take  your  part 
when  my  acquaintance  used  to  abuse  you,  and  turn  you  into 
ridicule. 

44 


THE  SCHOOL   FOR   SCANDAL. 

Sir  P.  Indeed! 

Lady  T.  Ay,  and  when  my  cousin  Sophy  has  called  you  a 
stiff,  peevish  old  bachelor,  and  laughed  at  me  for  thinking  of 
marrying  one  who  might  be  my  father,  I  have  always  defended 
you,  and  said,  I  didn't  think  you  so  ugly  by  any  means. 

Sir  P.  Thank  you. 

Lady  T.  And  I  dared  say  you'd  make  a  very  good  sort  of  a 
husband. 

Sir  P.  And  you  prophesied  right :  and  we  shall  now  be  the 
happiest  couple 

Lady  T.  And  never,  never  differ  again  ?  [Both  sit,  C. 

Sir  P.  No,  never,  never  ! — though  at  the  same  time,  in- 
deed, my  de'ar  Lady  Teazle,  you  must  watch  your  temper  very 
seriously  ;  for  in  all  our  little  quarrels,  my  dear,  if  you  will 
recollect,  my  love,  you  always  begin  first. 

Lady  T.  1  beg  your  pardon,  my  dear  Sir  Peter  ;  indeed,  you 
always  gave  the  provocation. 

Sir  P.  Now  see,  my  angel !  take  care — contradicting  isn't  the 
way  to  keep  friends. 

Lady  T.  Then  don't  you  begin  it,  my  love  ! 

Sir  P.  There,  now !  you — you  are  going  on.  You  don't  per- 
ceive, my  life,  that  you  are  just  doing  the  very  thing  which  you 
know  always  makes  me  angry. 

Lady  T.  Nay,  you  know  if  you  will  be  angry  without  any 
reason,  my  dear — 

Sir  P.  There  !  now  you  want  to  quarrel  again. 

Lady  T.  No,  I  am  sure  I  don't : — but  if  you  will  be  so  pee- 
vish— 

Sir  P.  There  now  !  who  begins  first  ? 

Lady  T.  Why  you,  to  be  sure.  {Both  start  up.~\  I  said 
nothing — but  there's  no  bearing  your  temper.  [Crosses,  L. 

Sir  P.  No,  no,  madam  ;  the  fault's  in  your  own  temper. 

[Going  R. 

Lady  T.  Ay,  you  are  just  what  my  cousin  Sophy  said  you 
would  be. 

Sir  P.  Your  cousin  Sophy  is  a  forward,  impertinent  gypsy. 

Lady  T.  You  are  a  great  bear,  I  am  sure,  to  abuse  my  re- 
lations. 

45 


THE   SCHOOL  FOR   SCANDAL. 

Sir  P.  Now  may  all  the  plagues  of  marriage  be  doubled  on 
me,  if  ever  I  try  to  be  friends  with  you  any  more. 

Lady  T.  So  much  the  better. 

Sir  P.  No,  no,  madam  :  'tis  evident  you  never  cared  a  pin  for 
me,  and  I  was  a  madman  to  marry  you — a  pert,  rural  coquette, 
that  had  refused  half  the  honest  squires  in  the  neighborhood. 

Lady  T.  And  I  am  sure  I  was  a  fool  to  marry  you — an  old 
dangling  bachelor,  who  was  single  at  fifty,  only  because  he  never 
could  meet  with  any  one  who  would  have  him.  [Crosses,  L. 

Sir  P.  Ay,  ay,  madam  ;  but  you  were  pleased  enough  to 
listen  to  me ;  you  never  had  such  an  offer  before. 

Lady  T.  No  !  Didn't  I  refuse  Sir  Tivy  Terrier,  who  every- 
body said  would  have  been  a  better  match  ?  for  his  estate  is 
just  as  good  as  yours,  and — he  has  broke  his  neck  since  we 
have  been  married.  [Goes,  L. 

Sir  P.  [R.]  I  have  done  with  you,  madam  !  You  are  an  un- 
feeling, ungrateful — but  there's  an  end  of  everything.  I  be- 
lieve you  capable  of  everything  that  is  bad.  Yes,  madam,  I 
now  believe  the  reports  relative  to  you  and  Charles,  madam. 
Yes,  madam,  you  and  Charles  are — not  without  grounds. 

Lady  T.  [L.]  Take  care,  Sir  Peter !  you  had  better  not  in- 
sinuate any  such  thing  !  I'll  not  be  suspected  without  cause, 
I  promise  you.  [Goes,  R. 

Sir  P.  Very  well,  madam  !  very  well  !  A  separate  mainte- 
nance as  soon  as  you  please  ! 

Lady  T.  Very  well  !     A  separate  maintenance  ! 

Sir  P.  Yes,  madam,  or  a  divorce  ! 

Lady  T.  As  you  please  !     A  divorce  ! 

Sir  P.  Very  well,  madam,  a  divorce  ! — I'll  make  an  exam- 
ple of  myself  for  the  benefit  of  all  old  bachelors. 

Lady  T.  Agreed  !  agreed  ! — And  now,  my  dear  Sir  Peter,  we 
are  of  a  mind  once  more,  we  may  be  the  happiest  couple — and 
never,  never — never  differ  again,  you  know — ha  !  ha  !  ha  !  So 
by-by.  [Exit,  R. 

Sir  P.  Plagues  and  tortures  !  Can't  I  make  her  angry 
either  !  She  may  break  my  heart,  but  she  shan't  keep  her 
temper.  [Exit,  L. 

END   OF  ACT  II. 
46 


ACT    III. 

SCENE. —  The  Picture  Gallery  at  CHARLES  SURFACE'S.     Cur- 
tains in  Arch  at  back  concealing  Dining-room. 

Enter  TRIP,  SIR  OLIVER  SURFACE,  and  MOSES,  R. 

Trip.  Here,  Master  Moses  !  if  you'll  stay  a  moment,  I'll  try 
whether — what's  the  gentleman's  name  ? 

Sir  O.  Mr.  Moses,  what  is  my  name  ? 

Moses.  Mr.  Premium.  [Crosses  C. 

Trip.  Premium — very  well. 

[Exit  TRIP,  taking  snuff,  behind  curtain,  C. 

Sir  0.  [L.]  To  judge  by  the  servants,  one  wouldn't  believe 
the  master  was  ruined.  But  what !  — sure,  this  was  my 
brother's  house  ? 

Moses.  [R.]  Yes,  sir  ;  Mr.  Charles  bought  it  of  Mr.  Joseph, 
with  the  furniture,  pictures,  etc.,  just  as  the  old  gentleman  left 
it.  Sir  Peter  thought  it  a  piece  of  extravagance  in  him. 

[Goes  R. 

Sir  O.  In  my  mind,  the  other's  economy  in  selling  it  to  him 
was  more  reprehensible  by  half. 

Re-enter  TRIP,  C. 

Trip.  My  master  says  you  must  wait,  gentlemen  :  he  has 
company,  and  can't  speak  with  you  yet. 

Sir  O.  If  he  knew  who  it  was  wanted  to  see  him,  perhaps 
he  would  not  send  such  a  message. 

Trip.  Yes,  yes,  sir  :  he  knows  you  are  here — I  did  not  for- 
get little  Premium,  no,  no,  no. 

Sir  0.  Very  well ;  and  I  pray,  sir,  what  may  be  your 
name  ? 

47 


2HE  SCHOOL  FOR   SCANDAL. 

Trip.  Trip,  sir  ;  my  name  is  Trip,  at  your  service. 

Sir  O.  Well,  then,  Mr.  Trip,  you  have  a  pleasant  sort  of 
place  here,  I  guess  ? 

Trip.  Why,  yes — here  are  three  or  four  of  us  who  pass  our 
time  agreeably  enough  ;  but  then  our  wages  are  sometimes  a 
little  in  arrear — and  not  very  great  either — but  fifty  pounds  a 
year,  and  find  our  own  bags  and  bouquets. 

Sir  O.  Bags  and  bouquets !  halters  and  bastinadoes  ! 

[Aside. 

Trip.  And, Apropos,  Moses — have  you  been  able  to  get  me 
that  little  bill  discounted  ? 

Sir  O.  Wants  to  raise  money  too  !  mercy  on  me  !  Has  his 
distresses  too,  I  warrant,  like  a  lord,  and  affects  creditors  and 
duns.  [Sits,  and  aside. 

Moses.  [R.]   'Twas  not  to  be  done,  indeed,  Mr.  Tripe. 

{Gives  TRIP  the  note. 

Trip,  [c.]  Good  lack,  you  surprise  me  !  My  friend  Brush 
has  endorsed  it,  and  I  thought  when  he  put  his  name  at  the 
back  of  a  bill  'twas  the  same  as  cash. 

Moses.     No  !  'twouldn't  do. 

Trip.  A  small  sum  —  but  twenty  pounds.  Hark'ee, 
Moses,  do  you  think  you  couldn't  get  it  by  way  of  an- 
nuity ? 

Sir  O.  [L.]  An  annuity  !  ha  !  ha  !  a  footman  raise  money 
by  way  of  annuity  !  Well  done,  luxury,  egad  !  [Aside. 

Moses.     Well,  but  you  must  insure  your  place. 

Trip.  Oh,  with  all  my  heart !  I'll  insure  my  place,  and  my 
life  too,  if  you  please. 

Sir  O.  It's  more  than  I  would  your  neck.  [Aside. 

Moses.  But  is  there  nothing  you  could  deposit  ? 

Trip.  Why,  nothing  capital  of  my  master's  wardrobe  has 
dropped  lately  ;  [Bell  rings,  C.]  but  I  could  give  you  a  mort- 
gage on  some  of  his  winter  clothes,  with  equity  of  redemption 
before  November — or  you  shall  have  the  reversion  of  the 
French  velvet,  or  a  post-obit  on  the  blue  and  silver  :  [Bell 
rings,  C.]  these,  I  should  think,  Moses,  with  a  few  pair  of 
point  ruffles,  as  a  collateral  security.  [Bell rings,  C.]  Egad, 
[Crosses,  C.]  I  heard  the  bell,  I  believe  !  Gentlemen,  I  can 

48 


THE   SCHOOL   FOR   SCANDAL. 

introduce  you  presently  ;  step  this  way  for  a  moment !  Don't 
forget  the  annuity,  little  Moses  !  This  way,  gentlemen.  I'll 
insure  my  place,  you  know.  [Opens  door,  L. 

Sir  O.  If  the  man  be  a  shadow  of  the  master,  this  is  the 
temple  of  dissipation  indeed  !  \_Exeunt,  L. 

[TRIP  returns  and  draws  the  curtains  at  back.  CHARLES 
SURFACE,  CARELESS,  slightly  tipsy,  SIR  HARRY,  etc., 
come  forward  as  if  from  table,  tlie  end  of  which  is  seen 
off  R.  Servants  bring  wine  and  serve  it.  TRIP  exit,  L.  ] 

Charles  S.  'Fore  heaven,  'tis  true  ! — there's  the  great  de- 
generacy of  the  age.  Many  of  our  acquaintance  have  taste, 
spirit,  and  politeness ;  but,  plague  on't,  they  won't  drink  wine. 

Care.  It  is  so  indeed,  Charles !  They  give  into  all  the  sub- 
stantial luxuries  of  the  table,  and  abstain  from  nothing  but 
wine  and  wit. 

Sir  H.  [Seated  on  lounge,  R.]  But  what  are  they  to  do  who 
love  play  better  than  wine  ? 

Charles  S.  For  my  part,  egad  !  I  am  never  so  successful  as 
when  I  am  a  little  merry :  let  me  throw  on  a  bottle  of  cham- 
pagne, and  I  never  lose. 

All.     Hey,  what  ? 

Charles  S.  At  least,  I  never  feel  my  losses,  which  is  exactly 
the  same  thing. 

Care.  Ay,  that  I  believe. 

Charles  S.  And  then,  what  man  can  pretend  to  be  a  believer 
in  love  who  is  an  abjurer  of  wine  ?  'Tis  the  test  by  which  the 
lover  knows  his  own  heart.  Fill  a  dozen  bumpers  to  a  dozen 
beauties,  and  she  that  floats  at  the  top  is  the  maid  that  has 
bewitched  you. 

Care.  Now,  then,  Charles,  be  honest,  and  give  us  your  real 
favorite. 

Charles  S.  Why,  I  have  withheld  her  only  in  compassion  to 
you.  If  I  toast  her,  you  must  give  a  round  of  her  peers,  which 
is  impossible — on  earth. 

Care.  Oh  !  then  we'll  find  some  canonized  vestals  or  heathen 
goddesses  that  will  do,  I  warrant. 

49 


THE  SCHOOL   FOR   SCANDAL. 

diaries  S.  Here  then,  bumpers,  you  rogues  !  bumpers  ! 
Maria  !  Maria  ! 

Sir  H.   Maria  who  ? 

Charles  S.  Oh,  damn  the  surname — 'tis  too  formal  to  be 
registered  in  love's  calendar.  Maria  ! 

Care.  Down  goes  Maria  ! 

AIL     Maria  !  [  They  drink. 

Charles  S.  But  now,  Sir  Harry,  beware,  we  must  have 
beauty  superlative. 

Care.  Nay,  never  study,  Sir  Harry  :  we'll  stand  to  the  toast, 
though  your  mistress  should  want  an  eye,  and  you  know  you 
have  a  song  will  excuse  you. 

Sir  H.  Egad,  so  I  have  !  and  I'll  give  him  the  song  instead 
of  the  lady. 

SONG. 

Here's  to  the  maiden  of  bashful  fifteen  ; 

Here's  to  the  widow  of  fifty  ; 
Here's  to  the  flaunting  extravagant  quean, 

And  here's  to  the  housewife  that's  thrifty. 
Chorus.     Let  the  toast  pass, 

Drink  to  the  lass, 
I'll  warrant  she'll  prove  an  excuse  for  the  glass. 

Here's  to  the  charmer  whose  dimples  we  prize  ! 

Now  to  the  maid  who  has  none,  sir  : 
Here's  to  the  girl  with  a  pair  of  blue  eyes. 

And  here's  to  the  nymph  with  but  one,  sir. 
Chorus.     Let  the  toast  pass,  etc. 

For  let  'em  be  clumsy,  or  let  'em  be  slim, 

Young  or  ancient,  I  care  not  a  feather  ; 
So  fill  up  your  glasses,  nay,  fill  to  the  brim, 

And  let  us  e'en  toast  them  together. 
Chorus.     Let  the  toast  pass,  etc. 

All.  Bravo  !  bravo  ! 

Enter  TRIP,  L.,  and  whispers  CHARLES  SURFACE. 

Charles  S.  [Rises.]  Gentlemen,  you  must  excuse  me  a  little. 

50 


THE   SCHOOL  FOR   SCANDAL. 

Care.  Nay,  prithee,  Charles,  what  now  ?  This  is  one  of 
your  peerless  beauties,  I  suppose,  has  dropt  in  by  chance  ? 

Charles  S.  No,  faith  !  To  tell  the  truth,  'tis  a  Jew  and  a 
broker,  who  are  come  by  appointment. 

Care.  Oh,  hang  it !  let's  have  the  Jew  in. 

Sir  H.  Ay,  and  the  broker  too,  by  all  means. 

Care.  Yes,  yes,  the  Brew  and  the  Joker. 

Charles  S.  Egad,  with  all  my  heart !  Trip,  bid  the  gentle- 
men walk  in — [Exit  TRIP,  R.] — though  there's  one  of  them  a 
stranger,  I  can  assure  you. 

Care.  Charles,  let  us  give  them  some  generous  Burgundy, 
and  perhaps  they'll  grow  conscientious. 

Charles  S.  Oh,  hang  'em,  no!  wine  does  but  draw  forth  a 
man's  natural  qualities  ;  and  to  make  them  drink  would  only  be 
to  whet  their  knavery. 

Enter  TRIP,  MOSES,  and  SIR  OLIVER  SURFACE,  R.        They 

cross  to  L. 

Charles  S.  So,  honest  Moses,  walk  in  ;  walk  in,  pray,  Mr. 
Premium — that's  the  gentleman's  name  ;  isn't  it,  Moses  ? 

Moses.  Yes,  sir. 

Charles  S.  Set  chairs,  Trip — sit  down,  Mr.  Premium — 
glasses,  Trip — sit  down,  Moses.  [They  sit  R.  C.]  Come,  Mr. 
Premium,  I'll  give  you  a  sentiment;  here's  Success  to  usury ! 
Fill  the  gentleman  a  bumper. 

Moses.  Success  to  usury  ! 

Care.  Right,  Moses — usury  is  prudence  and  industry,  and 
deserves  to  succeed. 

Sir  O.  Then — here's  all  the  success  it  deserves  ! 

Care.  [Rising  and  coming  forward.]  No,  no,  that  won't  do  ! 
Mr.  Premium  ;  you  have  demurred  at  the  toast,  and  must 
drink  it  in  a  pint  bumper. 

Sir  H.   [Rising  and  advancing.]  A  pint  bumper,  at  least. 

Moses.  Oh,  pray,  sir,  consider — Mr.  Premium's  a  gentleman. 

Care.  And  therefore  loves  good  wine. 

Sir  H.  Give  Moses  a  quart  glass — this  is  mutiny,  and  a  high 
contempt  for  the  chair. 

51 


THE  SCHOOL  FOR   SCANDAL. 

Charles  S.  No,  hang  it,  you  shan't  !  Mr.  Premium's  a 
stranger. 

Care.  Plague  on  'em,  then,  if  they  won't  drink  !  Come, 
Harry,  [  Taking  his  arm  and  going  up  C.]  the  dice  are  in  the 
next  room.  Charles,  you'll  join  us  when  you  have  finished 
your  business  with  the  gentlemen  ? 

Charles  S.  I  will !  I  will !  [Exeunt  all  the  gentlemen  through 
archy  C.,  singing I\  Careless  ! 

Care.  {Returning '.]  Well  ! 

Charles  S.  Perhaps  I  may  want  you. 

Care.  Oh,  you  know  I  am  always  ready  :  word  or  bond,  'tis 
all  the  same  to  me.  [Exit. 

Moses.  Sir,  this  is  Mr.  Premium,  a  gentleman  of  the  strictest 
honor  and  secrecy ;  and  always  performs  what  he  undertakes. 
Mr.  Premium,  this  is — 

Charles  S.  {Putting  MOSES  across  to  L.]  Pshaw  !  have  done. 
— Sir,  my  friend  Moses  is  a  very  honest  fellow,  but  a  little 
slow  at  expression  :  he'll  be  an  hour  giving  us  our  titles.  Mr. 
Premium,  the  plain  state  of  the  matter  is  this  :  I  am  an  ex- 
travagant young  fellow,  who  want  money  to  borrow — you  I 
take  to  be  a  prudent  old  fellow,  who  has  got  money  to  lend. 
I  am  blockhead  enough  to  give  fifty  per  cent,  sooner  than  not 
have  it ;  and  you,  I  presume,  are  rogue  enough  to  take  a  hun- 
dred if  you  can  get  it.  Now,  sir,  you  can  see  we  are  acquainted 
at  once,  and  may  proceed  to  business  without  further  cere- 
mony. 

Sir  O.  Exceeding  frank  upon  my  word.  I  see,  sir,  you  are 
not  a  man  of  many  compliments. 

Charles  S.  Oh,  no,  sir  ;  plain  dealing  in  business  I  always 
think  best. 

Sir  0.  Sir,  I  like  you  the  better  for  it.  However,  you  are 
mistaken  in  one  thing  ;  I  have  no  money  to  lend,  but  I  be- 
lieve I  could  procure  some  of  a  friend ;  but  then  he's  an  un- 
conscionable dog  ;  [Crosses  C.]  isn't  he,  Moses  ?  And  must 
sell  stock  to  accommodate  you — mustn't  he,  Moses  ? 

Moses.  Yes,  indeed  !  You  know  I  always  speak  the  truth, 
and  scorn  to  tell  a  lie  ! 

Charles  S.  Right.     People  that  speak  truth  generally  do ; 

5* 


THE  SCHOOL   FOR   SCANDAL. 

but  these  are  trifles,  Mr.  Premium.  What !  I  know  money 
isn't  to  be  bought  without  paying  for't ! 

Sir  O.  Well,  but  what  security  could  you  give  ?  You  have 
no  land,  I  suppose  ? 

CJiarles  S.  Not  a  mole-hill,  nor  a  twig,  but  what's  in  the 
bough-pots  out  of  the  window ! 

Sir  0.  Nor  any  stock,  I  presume  ? 

Charles  S.  Nothing  but  live  stock — and  that's  only  a  few 
pointers  and  ponies.  But  pray,  Mr.  Premium,  are  you  ac- 
quainted at  all  with  any  of  my  connections  ? 

Sir  O.  Why,  to  say  truth,  I  am. 

Charles  S.  Then  you  must  know  that  I  have  a  dev'lish  rich 
uncle  in  the  East  Indies,  Sir  Oliver  Surface,  from  whom  I  have 
the  greatest  expectations. 

Sir  0.  That  you  have  a  rich  uncle  I  have  heard ;  but  how 
your  expectations  will  turn  out,  is  more,  I  believe,  than  you 
can  tell. 

Charles  S.  Oh,  no,  there  can  be  no  doubt.  They  tell  me 
I'm  a  prodigious  favorite,  and  that  he  talks  of  leaving  me 
everything. 

Sir  O.  Indeed  !  this  is  the  first  I've  heard  of  it. 

Charles  S.  Yes,  yes,  'tis  just  so — [Crosses  C.]  Moses  knows 
'tis  true  ;  don't  you,  Moses  ? 

Sir  O.  [R.J  Egad,  they'll  persuade  me  presently  I'm  at 
Bengal.  [Aside. 

Charles  S.  Now  I  propose,  Mr.  Premium,  if  it's  agreeable 
to  you,  a  post-obit  on  Sir  Oliver's  life  :  though  at  the  same 
time,  the  old  fellow  has  been  so  liberal  to  me  that  I  give  you 
my  word  I  should  be  sorry  to  hear  anything  had  happened 
to  him. 

Sir  O.  Not  more  than  I  should,  I  assure  you.  But  the  bond 
you  mention  happens  to  be  just  the  worst  security  you  could 
offer  me — for  I  might  live  to  a  hundred  and  never  see  the 
principal. 

Charles  S.  Oh,  yes,  you  would — the  moment  Sir  Oliver 
dies,  you  know,  you  \vould  come  on  me  for  the  money. 

Sir  0.  Then  I  believe  I  should  be  the  most  unwelcome  dun 
you  ever  had  in  your  life. 

53 


THE  SCHOOL  FOR   SCANDAL. 

Charles  S.  What !  I  suppose  you're  afraid  that  Sir  Oliver  is 
too  geod  a  life  ! 

Sir  O.  No,  indeed,  I  am  not  ;  though  I  have  heard  he  is  as 
hale  and  healthy  as  any  man  of  his  years  in  Christendom. 

Charles  S.  There  again,  now,  you  are  misinformed.  No, 
no,  the  climate  has  hurt  him  considerably,  poor  uncle  Oliver  ! 
Yes,  yes,  he  breaks  apace,  I'm  told — and  is  so  much  altered 
lately,  that  his  nearest  relations  would  not  know  him  ! 

Sir  O.  No  !  Ha  !  ha  !  ha  !  so  much  altered  lately  that  his 
nearest  relations  would  not  know  him  !  Ha !  ha  !  ha  !  egad — 
Ha  !  ha  !  ha  ! 

Charles  S.  Ha  !  ha  ! — you're  glad  to  hear  that,  little  Pre- 
mium. 

Sir  O.  No,  no,  I'm  not. 

Charles  S.  Yes,  yes,  you  are — ha  !  ha  !  ha  ! — You  know 
that  mends  your  chance. 

Sir  O.  But  I  am  told  Sir  Oliver  is  coming  over  ? — nay, 
some  say  he  is  actually  arrived  ? 

Charles  S.  Pshaw  ?  Sure  I  must  know  better  than  you 
whether  he's  come  or  not.  No,  no  ;  rely  on't,  he's  at  this 
moment  at  Calcutta — isn't  he,  Moses  ? 

Moses.  O,  yes,  certainly.     I'll  take  my  oath  of  it. 

Sir  O.  Very  true,  as  you  say,  you  must  know  better  than 
I,  though  I  have  it  from  pretty  good  authority — hav'n't  I, 
Moses  ? 

Moses.  [L.J  Yes,  most  undoubted  !     I'll  take  my  oath  of  it. 

Sir  O.  [R.]  But,  sir,  as  I  understand,  you  want  a  few  hun- 
dreds immediately — is  there  nothing  you  could  dispose  of? 

Charles  S.   [c.]   How  do  you  mean  ? 

Sir  O.  For  instance,  now,  I  have  heard  that  your  father  left 
behind  him  a  great  quantity  of  massy  old  plate. 

Charles  S.  O  Lud  !  that's  gone  long  ago.  Moses  can  tell 
you  how  better  than  I  can. 

Moses.  Yes,  I  popped  them  in  the  crucible  myself. 

Sir  O.  Good  lack  !  all  the  family  race-cups  and  corporation 
bowls.  \_Aside.~]  Then  it  was  also  suppo'sed  that  his  library 
was  one  of  the  most  valuable  and  complete. 

Charles  S.  Yes,  yes,  so    it   was — vastly  too  much   so  for  a 

54 


THE   SCHOOL   FOR   SCANDAL. 

private  gentleman.  For  my  part,  I  was  always  of  a  communi- 
cative disposition,  so  I  thought  it  a  shame  to  keep  so  much 
knowledge  to  myself. 

Sir  O.  Mercy  upon  me  !  Learning  that  had  run  in  the 
family  like  an  heir-loom  !  [Aside.']  Pray,  what  are  become 
of  the  books  ? 

diaries  S.  You  must  inquire  of  the  auctioneer,  Master 
Premium,  for  I  don't  believe  even  Moses  can  direct  you. 

Moses.  I  know  nothing  of  books,  except  the  books  of  in- 
terest. 

Sir  O.  So,  so,  nothing  of  the  family  property  left,  I  sup- 
pose ? 

Charles  S.  Not  much  indeed  ;  unless  you  have  a  mind  to 
the  family  pictures.  I  have  got  a  room  full  of  ancestors  here, 
and  if  you  have  a  taste  for  old  paintings,  egad,  you  shall  have 
'em  a  bargain. 

Sir  O.  Hey  !  what  the  devil  ?  Sure,  you  wouldn't  sell  your 
forefathers,  would  you  ? 

Charles  S.  Every  man  of  them,  to  the  best  bidder. 

Sir  0.  What  !  your  great  uncles  and  aunts  ? 

Charles  S.  Ay,  and  my  great  grandfathers  and  grand- 
mothers too. 

Sir  0.  Now  I  give  him  up.  [Aside.']  What  the  plague, 
have  you  no  bowels  for  your  own  kindred  ?  Odd's  life,  do 
you  take  me  for  Shylock  in  the  play,  that  you  would  raise 
money  of  me  on  your  own  flesh  and  blood  ? 

Charles  S.  Nay,  my  little  broker,  don't  be  angry  ;  what 
need  you  care  if  you  have  your  money's  worth  ? 

Sir  O.  Well,  I'll  be  the  purchaser  :  I  think  I  can  dispose  of 
the  family  canvas.  Oh,  I'll  never  forgive  him  this  !  never  ! 

[Crosses  L.     Aside. 

Enter  CARELESS  from  C. 

Care.  Come,  Charles,  what  keeps  you  ? 
Charles  S.  I  can't  come  yet  :  i'faith,  we  are  going  to   have 
a  sale  here  : — Little  Premium  will  buy  all  my  ancestors. 
Care.  Oh,  burn  your^ncestors  ! 

55 


THE  SCHOOL   FOR   SCANDAL. 

Charles  S.  No,  he  may  do  that  afterward,  if  he  pleases. 
Stay,  Careless,  we  want  you  :  egad  you  shall  be  auctioneer. 

Care.  Oh,  have  with  you,  if  that's  the  case.  I  can  handle  a 
hammer  as  well  as  a  dice-box.  Going  !  going  !  [Going  R. 

Sir  O.  Oh,  the  profligates  !  [Aside. 

Charles  S.  Come,  Moses,  you  shall  be  appraiser,  if  we  want 
one.  Gad's  life,  little  Premium,  you  don't  seem  to  like  the 
business  ?  [Crosses  L.  C. 

Sir  0.  Oh,  yes,  I  do  vastly.  Ha  !  ha  !  ha  !  yes,  yes,  I  think 
it  a  rare  joke  to  sell  one's  family  by  auction — ha  !  ha  !  Oh, 
the  prodigal  !  [Aside. 

Charles  S.  To  be  sure  !  when  a  man  wants  money,  where 
the  plague  should  he  get  assistance  if  he  can't  make  free  with 
his  own  relations? 

Sir  O.   I'll  never  forgive  him  :  never  !  never  ! 

Charles  S.  Look  around  you,  gentlemen  ;  look  about  you — 
here  they  are,  the  family  of  the  Surfaces,  up  to  the  Conquest. 

Sir  O.  Ah  !  we  shall  never  see  such  figures  of  men  again. 

Charles  S.  I  hope  not. — Well,  you  see,  Master  Premium, 
what  a  domestic  character  I  am  :  here  I  sit  of  an  evening  sur- 
rounded by  my  family. — But,  come,  get  to  your  pulpit,  Mr. 
Auctioneer  ;  here's  an  old  gouty  chair  of  my  grandfather's 
will  answer  the  purpose.  [Brings  chair  forward,  C. 

Care.  Ay,  ay,  this  will  do. — But,  Charles,  I  haven't  a 
hammer  ;  and  what's  an  auctioneer  without  his  hammer  ? 

Charles  S.  Egad,  that's  true.  [Taking pedigree  down  from 
back.']  What  parchment  have  we  here  ?  Oh,  our  genealogy 
in  full.  Here,  Careless — you  shall  have  no  common  bit  of  ma- 
hogany ;  here's  the  family-tree  for  you,  you  rogue — this  shall 
be  your  hammer,  and  now  you  may  knock  down  my  ancestors 
with  their  own  pedigree. 

Sir  0.  [L.]  What  an  unnatural  rogue  ! — an  ex  post  facto 
parricide  !  {Aside. 

Care.  Yes,  yes,  here's  a  list  of  your  generation  indeed  ;  faith 
Charles,  this  is  the  most  convenient  thing  you  could  have 
found  for  the  business,  for  'twill  not  only  serve  as  a  hammer, 
but  a  catalogue  into  the  bargain.  Come,  begin — A-going,  a- 
going,  a-going  !  t 

56 


THE   SCHOOL  FOR  SCANDAL. 

Charles  S.  Bravo,  Careless  !  Well,  here's  my  great  uncle, 
Sir  Richard  Raveline,  a  marvellous  good  general  in  his  day,  I 
assure  you.  He  served  in  all  the  Duke  of  Maryborough's  wars, 
and  got  that  cut  over  his  eye  at  the  battle  of  Malplaquet. 
What  say  you,  Mr.  Premium  ? — look  at  him — there's  a  hero, 
not  cut  out  of  his  feathers,  as  your  modern  dipt  captains  are, 
but  enveloped  in  wigs  and  regimentals,  as  a  general  should  be. 
What  do  you  bid  ? 

Sir  O.   [Aside  to  MOSES.]     Bid  him  speak. 

Moses.  Mr.  Premium  would  havej/0//  speak. 

Charles  S.  Why,  then,  he  shall  have  him  for  ten  pounds, 
and  I'm  sure  that's  not  dear  for  a  staff  officer. 

Sir  0.  Heaven  deliver  me  !  his  famous  uncle  Richard 
for  ten  pounds  !  [Aside.']  Very  well,  sir,  I  take  him  at 
that. 

Charles  S.  Careless,  knock  down  my  uncle  Richard.  Here, 
now,  is  a  maiden  sister  of  his,  my  great  aunt  Deborah,  done 
by  Kneller  in  his  best  manner,  and  esteemed  a  very  formidable 
likeness.  There  she  is,  you  see,  a  shepherdess  feeding  her 
flock.  You  shall  have  her  for  five  pounds  ten — the  sheep  are 
worth  the  money. 

Moses.  They're  sheep  at  half  the  price. 

Sir  O.  Ah  !  poor  Deborah  !  a  woman  who  set  such  a  value 
on  herself  !  [AsideJ]  Five  pounds  ten — she's  mine. 

Charles  S.  Knock  down  my  aunt  Deborah,  Careless  !  This 
now,  is  a  grandfather  of  my  mother's,  a  learned  judge,  well 
known  on  the  western  circuit.  What  do  you  rate  him  at, 
Moses  ? 

Moses.  Four  guineas. 

Charles  S.  Four  guineas  !  Gad's  life,  you  don't  bid  me  the 
price  of  his  wig.  Mr.  Premium,  you  have  more  respect  for  the 
woolsack  ;  do  let  us  knock  his  lordship  down  at  fifteen. 

Sir  0.   By  all  means. 

Care.  Gone  ! 

Charles  S.  And  there  are  two  brothers  of  his,  William  and 
Walter  Blunt,  Esquires,  both  members  of  parliament,  and 
noted  speakers  ;  and  what's  very  extraordinary,  I  believe,  this 
is  the  first  time  they  were  ever  bought  or  sold. 


THE  SCHOOL  FOR   SCANDAL. 

Sir  0.  That  is  very  extraordinary  indeed  !  I'll  take  them 
at  your  own  price,  for  the  honor  of  parliament.  {Crosses. 

Care.  Well  said,  little  Premium  !  I'll  knock  them  down  at 
forty. 

Charles  S.  Here's  a  jolly  fellow — I  don't  know  what  re- 
lation, but  he  was  mayor  of  Norwich  ;  take  him  at  eight 
pounds. 

Sir  0.  No,  no  ;  six  will  do  for  the  mayor. 

Charles  S.  Come,  make  it  guineas,  and  I  throw  the  two 
aldermen  there  into  the  bargain. 

Sir  O.  They're  mine. 

Charles  S.  Careless,  knock  down  the  mayor  and  aldermen. 

Moses.  Six  guineas  for  the  mayor  and  alderman — what's  to 
become  of  the  corporation  ? 

Charles  S.  But,  plague  on't,  we  shall  be  all  day  retailing  in 
this  manner  ;  do  let  us  deal  wholesale  ;  what  say  you,  little 
Premium  ?  Give  me  three  hundred  pounds,  and  take  all  that 
remains  on  this  side  in  a  lump. 

Care.  Ay,  ay,  that  will  be  the  best  way. 

Charles  S.   Careless,  knock  down  this  side  of  the  room  ! 

Care.  Going,  going,  gone  !  [Knocks  MOSES. 

Moses.  But,  Mr.  Charles,  I  ain't  this  side  of  the  room  ! 

Sir  O.  Well,  well,  anything  to  accommodate  you — they  are 
mine.  But  there  is  one  portrait  which  you  have  always  passed 
over. 

Care.  [Having  put  the  chair  away,  comes  forward,  L.] 
What,  that  ill-looking  little  fellow  over  the  settee  ? 

Sir  O.  Yes,  yes,  I  mean  that,  though  I  don't  think  him  so 
ill-looking  a  little  fellow  by  any  means. 

Charles  S.  What,  that  ?  Oh  !  that's  my  uncle  Oliver  ;  'twas 
done  before  he  went  to  India. 

Care.  Your  uncle  Oliver?  Gad,  then  you'll  never  be  friends, 
Charles.  That,  now,  to  me,  is  as  stern  a  looking  rogue  as  ever 
I  saw  ;  an  unforgiving  eye,  and  a  confounded  disinheriting 
countenance  !  an  inveterate  knave,  depend  on't.  Don't  you 
think  so,  little  Premium  ? 

[Crosses  R.     Slapping  him  on  the  shoulder. 

Sir  0.   [Crosses  C.]    Upon  my  soul,  sir,  I  do  not  ;  I  think  it 

58 


THE   SCHOOL   FOR   SCANDAL. 

as  honest  a  looking  face  as  any  in  the  room,  dead  or  alive  ;  but 
I  suppose  uncle  Oliver  goes  with  the  rest  of  the  lumber? 

diaries  S.  No,  hang  it ;  I'll  never  part  with  poor  Noll.  The 
old  fellow  has  been  very  good  to  me,  and,  egad,  I'll  keep  his 
picture  while  I've  a  room  to  put  it  in. 

Sir  O.  [c.]  The  rogue's  my  nephew  after  all !  [Aside. ,] 
But,  sir,  I  have  somehow  taken  a  fancy  to  that  picture. 

Charles  S.  [L.]  I'm  sorry  for't,  for  you  certainly  will  not 
have  it.  Oons,  haven't  you  got  enough  of  them  ? 

Sir  O.  I  forgive  him  everything  !  [Aside.]  But,  sir,  when 
I  take  a  whim  in  my  head  I  don't  value  money.  I'll  give  you 
as  much  for  that  as  for  all  the  rest. 

•Charles  S.  Don't  tease  me,  Master  Broker  ;  I  tell  you  I'll 
not  part  with  it,  and  there's  an  end  of  it.  [Crosses  to  R. 

Sir  O.  How  like  his  father  the  dog  is  !  [Aside.]  Well, 
well,  I  have  done.  I  did  not  perceive  it  before,  but  I  think 
I  never  saw  such  a  resemblance.  [Aside]  Here  is  a  draft 
for  your  sum.  [Crosses  R.  C.  Taking  it  out  of  his  pocket-book. 

Charles  S.  Why,  'tis  for  eight  hundred  pounds. 

Sir  O.  You  will  not  let  Sir  Oliver  go  ? 

Charles  S.  Zounds  !  no  ! — I  tell  you  once  more. 

Sir  O.  Then  never  mind  the  difference,  we'll  balance  that 
another  time — but  give  me  your  hand  on  the  bargain  ;  you  are 
an  honest  fellow,  Charles — I  beg  your  pardon,  sir,  for  being  so 
free.  Come,  Moses.  [Crosses,  R. 

Charles  S.  [C.]  Egad,  this  is  a  whimsical  old  fellow  !  But 
hark'ee,  Premium,  you'll  prepare  lodgings  for  these  gentlemen  ? 

Sir  O.  [L.]   Yes,  yes,  I'll  send  for  them  in  a  day  or  two. 

Charles  S.  But  hold  ;  do  now  send  a  genteel  conveyance  for 
them,  for  I  assure  you  they  were  most  of  them  used  to  ride  in 
their  own  carriages.  [Crosses  L. 

Sir  O.   I  will,  I  will— for  all  but  Oliver. 

Charles  S.  Ay,  all  but  the  little  nabob. 

Sir  O.  You're  fixed  on  that  ? 

Charles  S.  Peremptorily.  [Crosses  L. 

Sir  O.  A  dear,  extravagant  rogue  !  [Aside]  Good-day ! 
Come,  Moses.  Let  me  hear  now  who  dares  call  him  profli- 
gate !  [Exeunt  SIR  OLIVER  SURFACE  and  MOSES,  R- 

59 


THE  SCHOOL   FOR   SCANDAL. 

Care.  Why,  this  is  the  oddest  genius  of  the  sort  I  ever  met 
with. 

Charles  S.  Egad,  he's  the  prince  of  brokers,  I  think.  I 
wonder  how  the  devil  Moses  got  acquainted  with  so  honest  a 
fellow.  But,  Careless,  say  I'll  join  the  company  in  a  few  mo-. 
ments. 

Care.  [R.]  I  will — don't  let  anyone  persuade  you  to  squan- 
der any  of  that  money  on  old  musty  debts,  or  any  such  non- 
sense ;  for  tradesmen,  Charles,  are  the  most  exorbitant  fellows. 

Charles  S.  [L.]  Very  true,  and  paying  them  is  only  encourag- 
ing them.  Ay,  ay,  never  fear.  [Exit  CARELESS,  R.  U.  E.] 
Let  me  see— two-thirds  of  this,  five  hundred  and  thirty  odd 
pounds,  are  mine  by  right. 

Enter  ROWLEY. 

Hah  !  Rowley  Uegad,  you  are  just  come  in  time  to  take  leave 
of  your  old  acquaintances. 

Row.  [L.]  Yes,  I  heard  the  family  portraits  were  agoing. 
There's  no  making  you  serious  a  moment. 

Charles  S.  Yes,  faith,  I  am  so  now.  Here,  my  honest  Row- 
ley, here,  get  me  this  changed  directly,  and  take  a  hundred 
pounds  of  it  immediately  to  old  Stanley. 

Row.  A  hundred  pounds  !     Consider  only 

Charles  S.  Gad's  life,  don't  talk  about  it ;  poor  Stanley's 
wants  are  pressing,  and  if  you  don't  make  haste  we  shall  have 
some  one  call  that  has  a  better  right  to  the  money. 

Row.  Ah,  there's  the  point !  I  will  never  cease  dunning  you 
with  the  old  proverb 

Charles  S.  lt  Be  just  before  you  are  generous."  Why,  so  I 
would  if  I  could  ;  but  Justice  is  an  old  hobbling  beldame,  and 
I  can't  get  her  to  keep  pace  with  Generosity,  for  the  soul  of  me. 

Row.  Yet,  one  hour's  reflection 

Charles  S.  Hark'ee,  Rowley,  while  I  have,  by  heaven  I'll 
give ;  so  hang  your  economy,  and  away  to  old  Stanley  with 
the  money.  \Exit  ROWLEY.]  'Fore  Heaven !  I  find  one's  ances- 
tors are  more  valuable  relations  than  I  took  them  for  !  Ladies 
and  gentlemen,  your  most  obedient  and  very  grateful  servant. 

CURTAIN. 
60 


ACT  IV. 

SCENE. — JOSEPH  SURFACE'S  library.    SERVANT  discovered  at 

fire. 

Enter  JOSEPH  SURFACE.      Goes  to    table ;    looks  over  some 

letters. 

Joseph  S.   No  letter  from  Lady  Teazle  ? 

Serv.  No,  sir. 

Joseph  S.  I  am  surprised  she  has  not  sent,  if  she  is  pre- 
vented from  coming.  [Knocking. 

Scrv.   Sir,  I  believe  that  must  be  Lady  Teazle. 

Joseph  S.  Hold.  See  whether  'tis  or  not.  I  have  a  particu- 
lar message  for  you  if  'tis  my  brother.  [Exit  SERVANT.]  Sir 
Peter  certainly  does  not  suspect  me.  Yet  I  hope  I  may  not 
lose  the  heiress  through  the  scrape  I've  drawn  myself  into  with 
the  wife.  However,  Charles's  imprudence  and  bad  character 
are  great  points  in  my  favor. 

Enter  SERVANT,  L. 

Serv.  Mr.  Stanley,  sir. 

Joseph  S.  Don't  admit  him. 

Serv.  Sir,  I  should  not  have  let  him  in,  but  that  Mr.  Rowley 
came  to  the  door  with  him. 

Joseph  S.  Pshaw  !  blockhead  !  to  suppose  that  I  should  now 
be  in  a  temper  to  receive  visits  from  poor  relations  !  Well, 
why  don't  you  show  the  fellow  up  ?  \Exit  SERVANT,  L.] 
Sure  Fortune  never  played  a  man  of  my  policy  such  a  trick 
before.  My  character  with  Sir  Peter,  my  hopes  with  Maria 
destroyed  in  a  moment  !  I'm  in  a  rare  humor  to  listen  to 
other  people's  distresses  ?  I  shan't  be  able  to  bestow  even  a 

61 


THE   SCHOOL  FOR  SCANDAL. 

benevolent  sentiment  on  old  Stanley.    I  must  try  to  put  a  little 
charity  into  my  face,  however. 

Enter  SIR  OLIVER,  L. 

Sir  0.  I  don't  like  the  complaisance  of  his  features. 

Joseph  S.  Sir,  I  beg  you  ten  thousand  pardons  for  keeping 
you  a  moment  waiting — Mr.  Stanley,  I  presume. 

Sir  0.   [L.]  At  your  service. 

Joseph  S.  Sir,  I  beg  you  will  do  me  the  honor  to  sit  down — 
I  entreat  you,  sir  ! 

Sir  O.  Dear  sir — there's  no  occasion — too  civil  by  half! 

[Aside.     Sitting,  L. 

Joseph  S.  I  have  not  the  pleasure  of  knowing  you,  Mr.  Stan- 
ley ;  but  I  am  extremely  happy  to  see  you  look  so  well.  You 
were  nearly  related  to  my  mother,  Mr.  Stanley,  I  think  ? 

Sir  0.  I  was,  sir  ;  so  nearly  that  my  present  poverty,  I 
fear,  may  do  discredit  to  her  wealthy  children,  else  I  should 
not  have  presumed  to  trouble  you. 

Joseph  S.  Dear  sir,  there  needs  no  apology  :  he  that  is  in 
distress,  though  a  stranger,  has  a  right  to  claim  kindred  with 
the  wealthy.  I  am  sure  I  wish  I  was  one  of  that  class,  and  had 
it  in  my  power  to  offer  you  even  a  small  relief. 

Sir  O.  If  your  uncle,  Sir  Oliver,  were  here,  I  should  have  a 
friend. 

Joseph  S.  My  dear  sir,  Sir  Oliver  is  a  worthy  man,  a  very 
worthy  man ;  but  avarice,  Mr.  Stanley  is  the  vice  of  age.  I 
will  tell  you,  my  good  sir,  in  confidence,  what  he  has  done 
for  me  has  been  a  mere  nothing,  though  people,  I  know, 
have  thought  otherwise ;  and  for  my  part  I  never  chose  to 
contradict  the  report. 

Sir  0.  What !  has  he  never  transmitted  you  bullion — rupees 
— pagodas  ? 

Joseph  S.  O  dear  sir,  nothing  of  the  kind.  No,  no — a  few 
presents  now  and  then — china,  shawls,  congou  tea,  avadavats, 
and  Indian  crackers — little  more,  believe  me. 

Sir  0.  [Aside. ~\  Here's  gratitude  for  twelve  thousand  pounds  ! 

62 


THE   SCHOOL  FOR  SCANDAL. 

Avadavats  and  Indian  crackers.  [Aloud.']  Then,  sir,  you 
can't  assist  me  ?  [Rises. 

Joseph  S.  At  present  it  grieves  me  to  say  I  cannot ;  [Rises."] 
but  whenever  I  have  the  ability,  you  may  depend  upon  hear- 
ing from  me. 

Sir  O.   I  am  extremely  sorry 

Joseph  /S.  Not  more  than  I,  believe  me  ;  to  pity  without  the 
power  to  relieve  is  still  more  painful  than  to  ask  and  be 
denied. 

Sir  O.   Kind  sir,  your  most  obedient  humble  servant. 

Joseph  S.  You  leave  me  deeply  affected,  Mr.  Stanley.  Will- 
iam, be  ready  to  open  the  door. 

Enter  SERVANT,  L. ,  standing  by  door. 

Sir  0.   Oh,  dear  sir,  no  ceremony. 

Joseph  S.  Your  very  obedient. 

Sir  O.   Sir,  your  most  obsequious. 

Joseph  S.  You  may  depend  upon  hearing  from  me  when- 
ever I  can  be  of  service. 

Sir  0.  Sweet  sir,  you  are  too  good  ! 

Joseph  S.  In  the  meantime  I  wish  you  health  and  spirits. 

Sir  O.  Your  ever  grateful  and  perpetual  humble  servant. 

Joseph  S.  Sir,  yours  as  sincerely. 

Sir  O.  Now  I'm  satisfied.  [Aside. ~\  Charles,  you  are  my 
heir.  [Exit,  L. 

Joseph  S.  This  is  one  bad  effect  of  a  good  character ;  it  in- 
vites application  from  the  unfortunate,  [Knocking."]  and  there 
needs  no  small  degree  of  address  to  gain  the  reputation  of 
benevolence  without  incurring  the  expense. 

Enter  SERVANT,  L. 

Serv.  'Tis  her  ladyship,  sir  ;  she  always  leaves  her  chair  at 
the  milliner's  in  the  next  street. 

Joseph  S.  Stay,  stay  ;  draw  that  screen  before  the  window 
[SERVANT  does  so.~\ — that  will  do  ;  my  opposite  neighbor  is 
a  lady  of  a  curious  temper.  [SERVANT  exit.'}  I  have  a  diffi- 

63 


THE   SCHOOL   FOR   SCANDAL. 

cult  hand  to  play  in  this  affair.  Lady  Teazle  has  lately  sus- 
pected my  views  on  Maria  ;  but  she  must  by  no  means  be  let 
into  the  secret — at  least,  till  I  have  her  more  in  my  power. 

[JOSEPH  sits  at  R.,  near  fire. 

Enter  LADY  TEAZLE,  L. 

Lady  T.  What,  sentiment  in  soliloquy  now  ?  Have  you 
been  very  impatient  ?  [JOSEPH  rises. ]  O  Lud  !  don't  pretend 
to  look  grave.  I  vow  I  couldn't  come  before.  [Crosses  to  fire. 

Joseph  S.  [C.]  Oh,  madam,  punctuality  is  a  species  of  con- 
stancy very  unfashionable  in  a  lady  of  quality. 

{Places  chairs,  and  sits  after  LADY  TEAZLE  is  seated. 

Lady  T.  [R.]  Upon  my  word  you  ought  to  pity  me.  Do 
you  know  Sir  Peter  is  grown  so  ill-natured  to  me  of  late,  and 
so  jealous  of  Charles,  too — that's  the  best  of  the  story,  isn't  it  ? 

Joseph  S.  [AsideJ]  I  am  glad  my  scandalous  friends  keep 
that  up. 

Lady  T.  I  am  sure  I  wish  he  would  let  Maria  marry  him,  and 
then  perhaps  he  would  be  convinced  ;  don't  you,  Mr.  Surface  ? 

Joseph  S.  Indeed  I  do  not.  [Aside.']  Oh,  certainly,  cer- 
tainly, for  then  my  dear  Lady  Teazle  would  be  also  convinced 
how  wrong  her  suspicions  were  of  my  having  any  design  on  the 
silly  girl. 

Lady  T.  Well,  well,  I'm  inclined  to  believe  you.  But  isn't 
it  provoking,  to  have  the  most  ill-natured  things  said  of  one  ! 
— And  there's  my  friend,  Lady  Sneerwell,  has  circulated  I 
don't  know  how  many  scandalous  tales  of  me,  and  all  without 
any  foundation  too — that's  what  vexes  me. 

Joseph  S.  Ay,  madam,  to  be  sure,  that  is  the  provoking  cir- 
cumstance— without  foundation  ;  yes,  yes,  there's  the  mortifi- 
cation, indeed  ;  for  when  a  scandalous  tale  is  believed  against 
one,  there  certainly  is  no  comfort  like  the  consciousness  of  hav- 
ing deserved  it. 

Lady  T.  No,  to  be  sure,  then  I'd  forgive  their  malice  ;  but 
to  attack  me,  who  am  really  so  innocent,  and  who  never  say 
an  ill-natured  thing  of  anybody — that  is,  of  any  friend ;  and 
then  Sir  Peter,  too,  to  have  him  so  peevish,  and  so  suspicious, 

64 


THE  SCHOOL   FOR   SCANDAL. 

when  I  know  the  integrity  of  my  own  heart — indeed,  'tis  mon- 
strous ! 

Joseph  S.  But,  my  dear  Lady  Teazle,  'tis  your  own  fault  if 
you  suffer  it.  When  a  husband  entertains  a  groundless  suspi- 
cion of  his  wife,  and  withdraws  his  confidence  from  her,  the 
original  compact  is  broken,  and  she  owes  it  to  the  honor  of 
her  sex  to  endeavor  to  outwit  him. 

Lady  T.  Indeed  ! — so  that  if  he  suspects  me  without  cause 
it  follows  that  the  best  way  of  curing  his  jealousy  is  to  give  him 
reason  for't. 

Joseph  S.  Undoubtedly  ;  for  your  husband  should  never  be 
deceived  in  you — and  in  that  case  it  becomes  you  to  be  frail 
in  compliment  to  his  discernment. 

Lady  T.  To  be  sure,  what  you  say  is  very  reasonable  ;  and 
when  the  consciousness  of  my  own  innocence — 

Joseph  S.  Ah  !  my  dear  madam,  there  is  the  great  mistake  : 
'tis  this  very  conscious  innocence  that  is  of  the  greatest  preju- 
dice to  you.  What  is  it  makes  you  negligent  of  forms,  and 
careless  of  the  world's  opinion  ? — why,  the  consciousness  of 
your  own  innocence.  What  makes  you  thoughtless  in  your 
conduct,  and  apt  to  run  into  a  thousand  little  imprudences  ? — 
why,  the  consciousness  of  your  own  innocence.  What  makes 
you  impatient  of  Sir  Peter's  temper,  and  outrageous  at  his  sus- 
picions ? — why,  the  consciousness  of  your  innocence. 

Lady  T.  'Tis  very  true  ! 

Joseph  S.  Now,  my  dear  Lady  Teazle,  if  you  would  but  once 
make  a  trifling  faux  pas  y  you  can't  conceive  how  cautious  you 
would  grow,  and  how  ready  to  humor  and  agree  with  your 
husband. 

Lady  T.  Do  you  think  so  ? 

Joseph  S.  Oh !  I  am  sure  on't,  and  then  you  would  find  all 
scandal  would  cease  at  once  ;  for,  in  short,  your  character  at 
present  is  like  a  person  in  a  plethora,  absolutely  dying  from 
too  much  health. 

Lady  T.  Well,  certainly,  this  is  the  oddest  doctrine,  and 
the  newest  receipt  for  avoiding  calumny  ! 

Joseph  S.  An  infallible  one,  believe  me.  Prudence,  like  ex- 
perience, must  be  paid  for. 

65 


THE  SCHOOL   FOR   SCANDAL. 

Lady  T.  Why,  if  my  understanding  were  once  convinced 

Joseph  S.  Oh,  certainly,  madam,  your  understanding  should 
be  convinced.  Yes,  yes — heaven  forbid  I  should  persuade  you 
to  do  anything  you  thought  wrong.  No,  no,  I  have  too  much 
honor  to  desire  it. 

Lady  T.  Don't  you  think  we  may  as  well  leave  honor  out 
of  the  argument  ?  [Rises,  crosses  L. 

Joseph  S.  Ah  !  the  ill-effects  of  your  country  education,  I 
see,  still  remain  with  you.  [Rises. 

Lady  T.  I  doubt  they  do  indeed  ;  and  I  will  fairly  own  to 
you,  that  if  I  could  be  persuaded  to  do  wrong,  it  would  be  by 
Sir  Peter's  ill-usage,  sooner  than  your  honorable  logic,  after 
all. 

Joseph  S.  Then,  by  this  hand,  which  he  is  unworthy  of 

[  Taking  her  hand. 

Enter  SERVANT,  L. 

'Sdeath,  you  blockhead — what  do  you  want  ? 

Serv.  I  beg  your  pardon,  sir,  but  I  thought  you  would   not 
choose  Sir  Peter  to  come  up  without  announcing  him. 
Joseph  S.  Sir  Peter !     Oons— the  devil  ! 
Lady  T.  Sir  Peter  !  O  Lud — I'm  ruined — I'm  ruined  ! 
Serv.  Sir,  'twasn't  I  let  him  in. 

Lady  T.  Oh  !  I'm  quite  undone  !  What  will  become  of  me  ? 
Now,  Mr.  Logic — Oh  !  mercy,  sir,  he's  on  the  stairs — I'll  get 

behind  here — and  if  ever  I'm  so  imprudent  again 

[Goes  behind  screen. 
Joseph  S.  Give  me  that  book. 

[Sits  down  near  fire.     SERVANT  pretends  to  adjust  the 
table,  L. 

Enter  SIR  PETER,  L. 

Sir  P.  Ay,  ever  improving  himself.  Mr.  Surface,  Mr.  Sur- 
face !  [  Taps  JOSEPH  on  the  shoulder. 

Joseph  S.  Oh,  my  dear  Sir  Peter,  I  beg  your  pardon.  [Gap- 
ing— throws  away  the  bookJ]  I  have  been  dozing  over  a  stupid 
book.  Well,  I  am  much  obliged  to  you  for  this  call.  You 

66 


THE   SCHOOL   FOR  SCANDAL. 

haven't  been  here,  I  believe,  since  I  fitted  up  this  room. 
{Crosses,  L.]  Books,  you  know,  are  the  only  things  I  am  a 
coxcomb  in. 

Sir  P.  Tis  very  neat  indeed.  Well,  well,  that's  proper  ;  and 
you  can  make  even  your  screen  a  source  of  knowledge — hung 
I  perceive,  with  maps  ?  [Walking  up  toward  screen. 

Joseph  S.  Oh,  yes,  I  find  great  use  in  that  screen. 

{Turning  SIR  PETER  from  the  screen,  R. 

Sir  P.  I  dare  say  you  must,  certainly,  when  you  want  to  find 
anything  in  a  hurry. 

Joseph  S.  Ay,  or  to  hide  anything  in  a  hurry  either.     [Aside 

Sir  P.  Well,  I  have  a  little  private  business 

Joseph  S.  You  need  not  stay.  [  To  the  SERVANT,  who  exits, 
L.  ]  Sir  Peter — I  beg {Indicates  the  divan.  They  sit. 

Sir  P.  Well,  now  we  are  alone,  there  is  a  subject,  my  dear 
friend,  on  which  I  wish  to  unburden  my  mind  to  you — a 
point  of  the  greatest  moment  to  my  peace  ;  in  short,  my 
good  friend,  Lady  Teazle's  conduct  of  late  has  made  me  very 
unhappy. 

Joseph  S.  [Seated,  L.  C.]  Indeed  !  I  am  very  sorry  to  hear  it. 

Sir  P.  [R.  C.]  Yes,  'tis  but  too  pUin  she  has  not  the  least 
regard  for  me  ;  but,  what's  worse,  I  have  pretty  good  authority 
to  suppose  she  has  formed  an  attachment  for  another. 

Joseph  S.   Indeed  !  you  astonish  me  ! 

Sir  P.  Yes  ;  and,  between  ourselves,  I  think  I've  discovered 
the  person. 

Joseph  S.  How  !  you  alarm  me  exceedingly. 

Sir  P.  Ay,  my  dear  friend,  I  knew  you  would  sympathize 
with  me  ! 

Joseph  S.  Yes — believe  me,  Sir  Peter,  such  a  discovery 
would  hurt  me  just  as  much  as  it  would  you. 

Sir  P.  I  am  convinced  of  it.  Ah  !  it  is  a  happiness  to  have 
a  friend  whom  we  can  trust,  even  with  one's  family  secrets. 
But  have  you  no  guess  who  I  mean  ? 

Joseph  S.  I  haven't  the  most  distant  idea.  It  can't  be  Sir 
Benjamin  Backbite  ? 

Sir  P.     Oh,  no  !  What  say  you  to  Charles  ? 

Joseph  S.  My  brother  !  impossible  ! 

67 


THE   SCHOOL  FOR   SCANDAL. 

Sir  P.  Oh  !  my  dear  friend,  the  goodness  of  your  own  heart 
misleads  you.  You  judge  of  others  by  yourself. 

Joseph  S.  Certainly,  Sir  Peter,  the  heart  that  is  conscious  of 
its  own  integrity  is  ever  slow  to  credit  another's  treachery. 

Sir  P.  True — but  your  brother  has  no  sentiment — you  never 
hear  him  talk  so. 

Joseph  S.  Yet  I  can't  but  think  Lady  Teazle  herself  has  too 
much  principle. 

Sir  P.  Ay,  but  what  is  principle  against  the  flattery  of  a 
handsome,  lively  young  fellow  ? 

Joseph  S.  That's  very  true. 

Sir  P.  And  then  you  know  the  difference  of  our  ages  makes 
it  very  improbable  that  she  should  have  any  very  great  affec- 
tion for  me ;  and  if  she  were  to  be  frail,  and  I  were  to  make  it 
public,  why  the  town  would  only  laugh  at  me,  the  foolish  old 
bachelor,  who  had  married  a  girl. 

Joseph  S.  That's  true,  to  be  sure,  they  would  laugh. 

Sir  P.  Laugh — ay,  and  make  ballads,  and  paragraphs,  and 
the  devil  knows  what,  of  me. 

Joseph  S.  No — you  must  never  make  it  public. 

Sir  P.  But  then — that  the  nephew  of  my  old  friend,  Sir  Oli- 
ver, should  be  the  person  to  attempt  such  a  wrong,  hurts  me 
more  nearly. 

Joseph  S.  Ay,  there's  the  point.  When  ingratitude  barbs 
the  dart  of  injury,  the  wound  has  double  danger  in  it. 

Sir  P.  Ay — I,  that  was,  in  a  manner,  left  his  guardian ;  in 
whose  house  he  has  been  so  often  entertained  ;  who  never  in 
my  life  denied  him — any  advice. 

Joseph  S.  Oh,  'tis  not  to  be  credited.  There  may  be  a  man 
capable  of  such  baseness,  to  be  sure ;  but  for  my  part,  till  you 
can  give  me  positive  proofs,  I  cannot  but  doubt  it.  However, 
if  it  should  be  proved  on  him,  he  is  no  longer  a  brother  of 
mine — I  disclaim  kindred  with  him  :  for  the  man  who  can 
break  through  the  laws  of  hospitality,  and  tempt  the  wife  of 
his  friend,  deserves  to  be  branded  as  the  pest  of  society. 

Sir  P.  What  a  difference  there  is  between  you  !  what  noble 
sentiments ! 

Joseph  S.  Yet  I  cannot  suspect  Lady  Teazle's  honor. 

68 


THE   SCHOOL   FOR   SCANDAL. 

Sir  P.  I  am  sure  I  wish  to  think  well  of  her,  and  to  remove 
all  ground  of  quarrel  between  us.  She  has  lately  reproached 
me  more  than  once  with  having  made  no  settlement  on  her  ; 
and,  in  our  last  quarrel,  she  almost  hinted  that  she  should  not 
break  her  heart  if  I  was  dead.  Now,  as  we  seem  to  differ  in 
our  ideas  of  expense,  I  have  resolved  she  shall  have  her  own 
way,  and  be  her  own  mistress  in  that  respect,  for  the  future  ; 
and  if  I  were  to  die  she  will  find  I  have  not  been  inattentive  to 
her  interest  while  living.  Here,  my  friend,  are  the  drafts  of 
two  deeds,  which  I  wish  to  have  your  opinion  on. -By  one, 
she  will  enjoy  eight  hundred  a  year  independent  while  I  live  ; 
and,  by  the  other,  the  bulk  of  my  fortune  after  my  death. 

Joseph  S.  This  conduct,  Sir  Peter,  is  indeed  truly  generous. 
— I  wish  it  may  not  corrupt  my  pupil.  [Aside. 

Sir  P.  Yes,  I  am  determined  she  shall  have  no  cause  to 
complain,  though  I  would  not  have  her  acquainted  with  the 
latter  instance  of  my  affection  yet  awhile. 

Joseph  S.  Nor  I,  if  I  could  help  it.  {Aside. 

Sir  P.  And  now,  my  dear  friend,  it  you  please,  we  will  talk 
over  the  situation  of  your  hopes  with  Maria. 

Joseph  S.  [Softly. ~\ — Oh,  no,  Sir  Peter  ;  another  time,  if  you 
please. 

Sir  P.  I  am  sensibly  chagrined  at  the  little  progress  you 
seem  to  make  in  her  affections. 

Joseph  S.  I  beg  you  will  not  mention  it,  sir.  What  are  my 
disappointments  when  your  happiness  is  in  debate  !  \_SoftlyJ] 
'Sdeath  !  I  shall  be  ruined  every  way. 

Sir  P.  And  though  you  are  so  averse  to  my  acquainting 
Lady  Teazle  with  your  passion,  I'm  sure  she's  not  your  enemy 
in  the  affair. 

Joseph  S.  Pray,  Sir  Peter,  now  oblige  me.  I  am  really  too 
much  affected  by  the  subject  we  have  been  speaking  of  to  be- 
stow a  thought  on  my  own  concerns.  The  man  who  is  en- 
trusted with  his  friend's  distresses  can  never 

Enter  SERVANT,  L. 
Well,  sir  ? 


69 


THE   SCHOOL  FOR   SCANDAL. 

Serv.  Your  brother,  sir,  is  speaking  to  a  gentleman  in  the 
street,  and  says  he  knows  you  are  within. 

Joseph  S.  [Rises. ~]  'Sdeath,  blockhead,  I'm  not  within — I'm 
out  for  the  day. 

Sir  P.  [RisesJ]  Stay — hold — a  thought  has  struck  me — you 
shall  be  at  home. 

Joseph  S.  [Crossing  to  SERVANT.]  Well,  well,  let  him  up. 
[Exit  SERVANT,  L.]  He'll  interrupt  Sir  Peter,  however. 
[Aside.'] 

Sir  P.  [R.]  Now,  my  good  friend,  oblige  me,  I  entreat  you. 
Before  Charles  comes  let  me  conceal  myself  somewhere — 
then  do  you  tax  him  on  the  point  we  have  been  talking,  and 
his  answer  may  satisfy  me  at  once. 

Joseph  S.  O  fie,  Sir  Peter  !  would  you  have  me  join  in  so 
mean  a  trick  ? — To  trepan  my  brother,  too  ? 

Sir  P.  Nay,  you  tell  me  you  are  sure  he  is  innocent ;  if  so, 
you  do  him  the  greatest  service  by  giving  him  an  opportunity 
to  clear  himself,  and  you  will  set  my  heart  at  rest.  Come,  you 
shall  not  refuse  me.  [Going-  up.']  Here,  behind  this  screen  will 

be Hey !    what  the  devil !    there  seems  to  be  one  listener 

here  already — I'll  swear  I  saw  a  petticoat. 

Joseph  S.  Ha !  ha  !  ha !  Well,  this  is  ridiculous  enough. 
I'll  tell  you,  Sir  Peter,  though  I  hold  a  man  of  intrigue  to  be  a 
most  despicable  character,  yet  you  know,  it  does  not  follow 
that  one  is  to  be  an  absolute  Joseph  either  !  Hark'ee,  'tis  a 
little  French  milliner — a  silly  rogue  that  plagues  me — and  hav- 
ing some  character  to  lose,  on  your  coming,  sir,  she  ran  behind 
the  screen. 

Sir  P.  Ah  !  Joseph  !  Joseph  !  Did  I  ever  think  that  you — 
but,  egad,  she  has  overheard  all  I  have  been  saying  of  my  wife. 

Joseph  S.  Oh,  'twill  never  go  farther,  you  may  depend  upon 
it.  She  doesn't  understand  a  word  of  English. 

Sir  P.  No  !  then,  faith,  let  her  hear  it  out.  Here's  a  closet 
will  do  as  well. 

Joseph  S.  Well,  go  in  there. 

Sir  P.   Sly  rogue  !  sly  rogue  !  [Going  into  the  closet,  R. 

Joseph  S.  A  narrow  escape,  indeed  !  and  a  curious  situation 
I'm  in,  to  part  man  and  wife  in  this  manner. 

70 


THE  SCHOOL   FOR   SCANDAL. 

Lady  T.  [Peeping.']     Couldn't  I  steal  off  ? 

Joseph  S.  Keep  close,  my  angel !  [She  hides. 

Sir  P.  [Peeping  out,  R.]     Joseph,  tax  him  home. 

Joseph  S.  Back,  my  dear  friend  ! 

Lady  S.   [Peeping  againJ]  Couldn't  you  lock  Sir  Peter  in  ? 

Joseph  S.  Be  still,  my  life  !  [She  hides. 

Sir  P.  [Peeping.]  You're  sure  the  little  milliner  won't 
blab? 

Joseph  S.  In,  in,  my  dear  Sir  Peter— 'fore  gad,  I  wish  I  had 
a  key  to  the  door. 

[/;/  trepidation,  fanning  himself  with  his  handkerchief. 

Enter   CHARLES   SURFACE,    L. 

Charles  S.  Holla  !  brother,  what  has  been  the  matter  ?  Your 
fellow  would  not  let  me  up  at  first.  What !  have  you  had  a 
Jew  or  a  girl  with  you  ? 

Joseph  S.   [R.]  Neither,  brother,  I  assure  you. 

Charles  S.  [L.]  But  what  has  made  Sir  Peter  steal  off?  I 
thought  he  had  been  with  you. 

Joseph  S.  He  was,  brother  ;  but  hearing  you  were  coming, 
he  did  not  choose  to  stay. 

Charles  S.  What  ?  was  the  old  gentleman  afraid  I  wanted  to 
borrow  money  of  him  ? 

Joseph  S.  No,  sir ;  but  I  am  sorry  to  find,  Charles,  that  you 
have  lately  given  that  worthy  man  grounds  for  great  uneasi- 
ness. 

Charles  S.  Yes,  they  tell  me  I  do  that  to  a  great  many 
worthy  men  ;  but  how  so,  pray  ? 

Joseph  S.  To  be  plain  with  you,  brother,  he  thinks  you  are 
endeavoring  to  gain  Lady  Teazle's  affections  from  him  ! 

Charles  S.  Who,  I  ?  O  Lud  !  not  I,  upon  my  word.  Ha! 
ha  !  ha  !  ha  !  So  the  old  fellow  has  found  out  that  he  has  got 
a  young  wife,  has  he  ? 

Joseph  S.  This  is  no  subject  to  jest  on,  brother.  He  who 
can  laugh 

Charles  S.  True,  true,  as  you  were  going  to  say — then,  seri- 
ously, I  never  had  the  least  idea  of  what  you  charge  me  with, 
upon  my  honor. 


THE  SCHOOL  FOR   SCANDAL. 

Joseph  S.  Well,  it  will  give  Sir  Peter  great  satisfaction  to 
hear  this. 

Charles  S.  To  be  sure,  I  once  thought  the  lady  seemed  to 
have  taken  a  fancy  to  me  ;  but,  upon  my  soul,  I  never  gave  her 
the  least  encouragement — besides,  you  know  my  attachment 
to  Maria. 

Joseph  S.  But  sure,  brother,  even  if  Lady  Teazle  had  be- 
trayed the  fondest  partiality  for  you 

Charles  S.  Why,  look'ee,  Joseph,  I  hope  I  shall  never  delib- 
erately do  a  dishonorable  action  ;  but  if  a  pretty  woman  was 
purposely  to  throw  herself  in  my  way — and  that  pretty  woman 
married  to  a  man  old  enough  to  be  her  father 

Joseph  S.  Well 

Charles  S.  Why,  I  believe  I  should  be  obliged  to 

JosephS.  What? 

Charles  S.  To  borrow  a  little  of  your  morality,  that's  all. 
[Crosses  R.]  But,  brother,  do  you  know  now  that  you  sur- 
prise me  exceedingly  by  naming  me  with  Lady  Teazle ;  for, 
'faith,  I  always  understood  you  were  her  favorite. 

Joseph  S.   Oh,  for  shame,  Charles  !     This  retort  is  foolish. 

Charles  S.  Nay,  I  swear  I  have  seen  you  exchange  such  sig- 
nificant glances 

Joseph  S.     Nay,  nay,  sir,  this  is  no  jest. 

Charles  S.  Egad,  I'm  serious.  Don't  you  remember  one 
day  when  I  called  here 

Joseph  S.   Nay,  prythee,  Charles 

Charles  S.  And  you  together- 


Joseph  S.  Zounds,  sir  !     I  insist 

Charles  S.  And  another  time,  your  servant- 


Joseph  S.  Brother,  brother,  a  word  with  you  !  Gad,  I  must 
stop  him.  [Aside. 

Charles  S.  Informed,  I  say,  that 

Joseph  S.  Hush  !  [Putting  his  handkerchief  over  CHARLES'S 
mouth^  I  beg  your  pardon,  but  Sir  Peter  has  heard  every 
word  we've  been  saying.  I  knew  you  would  clear  yourself  or 
I  would  not  have  consented. 

Charles  S.  How,  Sir  Peter  !     Where  is  he  ? 

Joseph  S.  Softly  ;  there.  [Points  to  the  closet,  R. 

72 


THE   SCHOOL   FOR   SCANDAL. 

Charles  S.  Oh,  'fore  heaven,  I'll  have  him  out.  Sir  Peter, 
come  forth  !  [  Trying  to  get  to  the  closet. 

Joseph  8.  No,  no [Preventing  him. 

Charles  S.  I  say,  Sir  Peter,  come  into  court.  [Crosses,  R.  ; 
pulls  in  SIR  PETER.]  What !  my  old  guardian!  What!  turn 
inquisitor,  and  take  evidence  incog.?  Oh,  fie  !  oh,  fie  ! 

Sir  P.  Give  me  your  hand,  Charles — I  believe  I  have  sus- 
pected you  wrongfully  ;  but  you  mustn't  be  angry  with  Joseph 
— 'twas  my  plan  ! 

Charles  S.  Indeed  ! 

Sir  P.  But  I  acquit  you.  I  promise  you  I  don't  think  near 
so  ill  of  you  as  I  did  :  what  I  have  heard  has  given  me  great 
satisfaction. 

Charles  S.  Egad,  then  'twas  lucky  you  didn't  hear  any  more 
— wasn't  it,  Joseph  ?  {Apart  to  JOSEPH. 

Sir  P.  Ah  !  you  would  have  retorted  on  him. 

Charles  S.  Ay,  ay,  that  was  a  joke. 

Sir  P.  Yes,  yes,  I  know  his  honor  too  well. 

Charles  S.  But  you  might  as  well  suspect  him  as  me  in  this 
matter,  for  all  that — mightn't  he,  Joseph  ?  [Apart  to  JOSEPH. 

Sir  P.  Well,  well,  I  believe  you. 

Joseph  S.  Would  they  were  both  out  of  the  room  !     {Aside. 

Sir  P.  And  in  future,  perhaps,  we  may  not  be  such  stran- 
gers. 

Enter  SERVANT,  L. 

Serv.  Lady  Sneervvell  is  below,  and  says  she  will  come  up. 

Joseph  S.  Lady  Sneerwell !  Gad's  life  !  she  must  not  come 
here  !  {Exit  SERVANT,  L.]  Gentlemen,  I  beg  pardon — I  must 
wait  on  you  down-stairs  :  here  is  a  person  come  on  particular 
business. 

Charles  S.  Well,  you  can  see  him  in  another  room.  Sir 
Peter  and  I  have  not  met  for  a  long  time,  and  I  have  something 
to  say  to  him. 

Joseph  S.  They  must  not  be  left  together.  [Aside.']  I'll 
send  Lady  Sneerwell  away,  and  return  directly.  [Suddenly, 
seeing  SIR  PETER  approach  the  screen^  Sir  Peter  !  [Aside  as 

73 


THE   SCHOOL   FOR   SCANDAL. 

SIR  PETER  comes  to  him.~\  Not  a  word  of  the  French  milliner. 
{Suddenly,  as  CHARLES  approaches  the  screen."]  Charles,  en- 
tertain Sir  Peter  !  [Exits. 

Sir  P.  [R.  C.]  Ah  !  Charles,  if  you  associated  more  with 
your  brother  one  might  indeed  hope  for  your  reformation. 
He  is  a  man  of  sentiment.  Well,  there  is  nothing  in  the  world 
so  noble  as  a  man  of  sentiment. 

Charles  8.   [L.  C.]  Pshaw  !  he  is  too  moral  by  half. 

Sir  P.  No,  no  !  Come,  come — you  wrong  him.  No,  no  ! 
Joseph  is  no  rake,  but  he  is  no  such  saint  either.  I  have  a 
great  mind  to  tell  him — we  should  have  such  a  laugh  at 
Joseph.  [Aside. 

Charles  S.  Oh,  hang  him  !  He's  a  very  anchorite,  a  young 
hermit. 

Sir  P.  Hark'ee — you  must  not  abuse  him  :  he  may  chance  to 
hear  of  it  again,  I  promise  you. 

Charles  S.  Why,  you  won't  tell  him  ? 

Sir  P.  No  ! — I  won't  tell  him — but — this  way.  Egad,  I'll 
tell  him.  [Aside. ~\  Hark'ee — have  you  a  mind  to  have  a  good 
laugh  at  Joseph  ? 

Charles  S.  I  should  like  it  of  all  things. 

Sir  P.  Then,  i'faith,  we  will — I'll  be  quit  with  him  for  dis- 
covering me.  He  had  a  girl  with  him  when  I  called. 

[  Whispers. 

Charles  S.  What  !  Joseph  ? — you  jest. 

Sir  P.  Hush  ! — a  little  French  milliner,  who  doesn't  speak  a 
word  of  English — and  the  best  of  the  jest  is — she's  in  the  room 
now. 

Charles  S.  The  deuce  she  is  !  [Points  at  closet. 

Sir  P.  Hush  !  I  tell  you  ! 

[Knocks  his  hand  and  points  to  the  screen. 

Charles  S.  Behind  the  screen  !     'Slife,  let  us  unveil. 

Sir  P.  No,  no — he's  coming — you  shan't,  indeed  ! 

Charles  S.  Oh,  egad,  we'll  have  a  peep  at  the  little  milliner  ! 
[Endeavoring  to  get  toward  screen ,  SIR  PETER  preventing. 

Sir  P.  Not  for  the  world — Joseph  will  never  forgive  me 

Charles  S.  I'll  stand  by  you 

Sir  P.  Odds,  here  he  is  ! 

74 


THE   SCHOOL   FOR   SCANDAL. 

JOSEPH    SURFACE   enters,  L.,  just   as   CHARLES    SURFACE 
throws  down  the  screen. 

Charles  S.  [C.]     Lady  Teazle  !  by  all  that's  wonderful ! 

Joseph  S.  Lady  Teazle  !  by  all  that's  horrible  ! 

Sir  P.  [R.]     Lady  Teazle  !  by  all  that's  damnable  ! 

Charles  S.  Sir  Peter,  this  is  one  of  the  smartest  French 
milliners  I  ever  saw.  Egad,  you  seem  all  to  have  been  diverting 
yourselves  here  at  hide  and  seek,  and  I  don't  see  who  is  out  of 
the  secret.  Shall  I  beg  your  ladyship  to  inform  me  ?  But  I  for- 
got, the  little  French  milliner  doesn't  speak  a  word  of  English  ! 
Not  a  word  !  Brother,  will  you  be  pleased  to  explain  this 
matter  ?  What !  is  Morality  dumb  too  ?  Sir  Peter,  though  I 
found  you  in  the  dark,  perhaps  you  are  not  so  now  !  All  mute  ! 
Well — though  I  can  make  nothing  of  the  affair,  I  suppose  you 
perfectly  understand  one  another — so  I'll  leave  you  to  your- 
selves. [Going."]  Brother,  I'm  sorry  to  find  you  have  given 
that  worthy  man  grounds  for  so  much  uneasiness.  Sir  Peter, 
there's  nothing  in  the  world  so  noble  as  a  man  of  sentiment. 
[Exit  CHARLES,  L.  SIR  PETER  and  JOSEPH  stand  for 
some  time  looking  at  each  other. 

Joseph  S.  [L.]  Sir  Peter — notwithstanding — I  confess — that 
appearances  are  against  me — if  you  will  afford  me  your  pa- 
tience— I  make  no  doubt — but  I  shall  explain  everything  to 
your  satisfaction. 

Sir  P.  [R.]   If  you  please,  sir. 

Joseph  S.  The  fact  is,  sir,  that  Lady  Teazle,  knowing  my  pre- 
tensions to  your  ward  Maria — I  say,  sir,  Lady  Teazle,  being  ap- 
prehensive of  the  jealousy  of  your  temper — and  knowing  my 
friendship  to  the  family — she,  sir,  I  say — called  here — in  order 
that — I  might  explain  these  pretensions — but  on  your  coming 
— being  apprehensive — as  I  said — of  your  jealousy— she  with- 
drew— and  this,  you  may  depend  on  it,  is  the  whole  truth  of 
the  matter. 

Sir  P.  A  very  clear  account,  upon  my  word  ;  and  I  dare 
swear  the  lady  will  vouch  for  every  article  of  it. 

Lady  T.  [Coming  forward,  C.]  For  not  one  word  of  it,  Sir 
Peter  ! 

75 


THE  SCHOOL  FOR   SCANDAL. 

Sir  P.  How  !  don't  you  think  it  worth  while  to  agree  in  the  lie  ? 

Lady  T.  There  is  not  one  syllable  of  truth  in  what  that  gen- 
tleman has  told  you. 

Sir  P.   I  believe  you,  upon  my  soul,  ma'am  ! 

Joseph  S.   \_Aside.~\  'Sdeath,  madam,  will  you  betray  me  ? 

Lady  T.  Good  Mr.  Hypocrite,  by  your  leave  I'll  speak  for 
myself. 

Sir  P.  Ay,  let  her  alone,  sir ;  you'll  find  she'll  make  out  a 
better  story  than  you  without  prompting. 

Lady  T.  Hear  me,  Sir  Peter !  I  came  hither  on  no  matter 
relating  to  your  ward,  and  even  ignorant  of  the  gentleman's 
pretensions  to  her.  But  I  came,  tempted  by  his  insidious  ar- 
guments, at  least  to  listen  to  his  pretended  passion,  if  not  to 
sacrifice  your  honor  to  his  baseness. 

Sir  P.  Now  I  believe  the  truth  is  coming  indeed  ! 

Joseph  S.  The  woman's  mad  ! 

Lady  T.  No,  sir — the  woman  has  recovered  her  senses,  and 
your  own  arts  have  furnished  her  with  the  means.  Sir  Peter, 
I  do  not  expect  you  to  credit  me — but  the  tenderness  you  ex- 
pressed for  me,  when  I  am  sure  you  could  not  think  I  was  a 
witness  to  it,  has  so  penetrated  to  my  heart  that,  had  I  left 
the  place  without  the  shame  of  this  discovery,  my  future  life 
should  have  spoken  the  sincerity  of  my  gratitude.  [Crosses  to 
L.]  As  for  that  smooth-tongued  hypocrite,  who  would  have 
tempted  the  wife  of  his  too  credulous  friend,  while  he  affected 
honorable  addresses  to  his  ward — I  behold  him  now  in  a  light 
so  truly  despicable  that  I  shall  never  again  respect  myself  for 
having  listened  to  him.  \_Exit  LADY  TEAZLE,  L. 

Joseph  S.  Notwithstanding  all  this,  Sir  Peter,  Heaven 
knows • 

Sir  P.  [Crosses,  L.]  That  you  are  a  villain  !  and  so  I  leave 
you  to  your  conscience. 

Joseph  S.  You  are  too  rash,  Sir  Peter ;  you  shall  hear  me. 
The  man  who  shuts  out  conviction  by  refusing  to 

Sir  P.  Oh,  damn  your  sentiments  ! 

[Exeunt  SIR  PETER  and  SURFACE  talking,  L. 

END   OF  ACT   IV. 

76 


ACT   V. 

SCENE.— SIR  PETER  TEAZLE'S  House.    As  in  Act  II. 
Enter  MAID  and  MRS.  CANDOUR,  L. 

Maid.  [R.]  Indeed,  ma'am,  my  lady  will  see  nobody  at 
present. 

Mrs.  C.  [L.]  Did  you  tell  her  it  was  her  friend,  Mrs.  Can- 
dour ? 

Maid.  Yes,  ma'am  ;  but  she  begs  you  will  excuse  her. 

Mrs.  C.  Do  go  again — I  shall  be  glad  to  see  her,  if  it  be  only 
for  a  moment,  for  I  am  sure  she  must  be  in  great  distress. 
[Exit  MAID,  R.]  Dear  heart,  how  provoking  !  I'm  not  mis- 
tress of  half  the  circumstances  !  We  shall  have  the  whole  affair 
in  the  newspapers,  with  the  names  of  the  parties  at  length,  be- 
fore I  have  dropped  the  story  at  a  dozen  houses. 

Enter  SIR  BENJAMIN  BACKBITE,  L.  D. 

Oh,  dear  Sir  Benjamin,  you  have  heard,  I  suppose 

Sir  B.  [L.]  Of  Lady  Teazle  and  Mr.  Surface 

Mrs.  C.  [L.]  And  Sir  Peter's  discovery 

Sir  B.   Oh  !  the  strangest  piece  of  business,  to  be  sure. 

Mrs.  C.  Well,  I  never  was  so  surprised  in  my  life.  I  am 
sorry  for  all  parties,  indeed. 

Sir  B.  Now,  I  don't  pity  Sir  Peter  at  all :  he  was  so  extrava- 
gantly partial  to  Mr.  Surface. 

Mrs.  C.  Mr.  Surface  !  Why, 'twas  with  Charles  Lady  Teazle 
was  detected. 

Sir  B.  No  such  thing,  I  tell  you — Mr.  Surface  is  the  gallant. 

Mrs.  C.  No,  no,  Charles  is  the  man.  'Twas  Mr.  Surface 
brought  Sir  Peter  on  purpose  to  discover  them. 

77 


THE  SCHOOL   FOR   SCANDAL. 


Sir  B.  I  tell  you  I  had  it  from  one- 
Mrs.  C.  And  I  have  it  from  one — 


Sir  B.  Who  had  it  from  one,  who  had  it 

Mrs.  C.  From  one  immediately — but  here  comes  Lady 
Sneerwell ;  perhaps  she  knows  the  whole  affair.  [Crosses,  C. 

Enter  LADY  SNEERWELL,  L.  D. 

Lady  S.  So,  my  dear  Mrs.  Candour,  here's  a  sad  affair  of 
our  friend  Teazle. 

Mrs.-  C.  [C.]  Ay,  my  dear  friend,  who  would  have  thought — 

Lady  S.  [L.]  Well,  there  is  no  trusting  appearances  ;  though, 
indeed,  she  was  always  too  lively  for  me. 

Mrs.  C.  To  be  sure,  her  manners  were  a  little  too  free ;  but 
then  she  was  so  young  ! 

Lady  S.  And  had,  indeed,  some  good  qualities. 

Mrs.  C.  So  she  had,  indeed.  But  have  you  heard  the  par- 
ticulars ? 

Lady  S.  No  ;  no  but  everybody  says  that  Mr.  Surface 

Sir  B.  [R.]  Ay,  there  ;  I  told  you  Mr.  Surface  was  the  man. 

Mrs.  C.  No,  no — indeed  the  assignation  was  with  Charles. 

Lady  S.  With  Charles  !  you  alarm  me,  Mrs.  Candour. 

Mrs.  C.  Yes,  yes,  he  was  the  lover.  Mr.  Surface,  to  do  him 
justice,  was  only  the  informer. 

Sir  B.  Well,  I'll  not  dispute  with  you,  Mrs.  Candour  ;  but, 
be  it  which  it  may,  I  hope  that  Sir  Peter's  wound  will  not 

Mrs.  C.  Sir  Peter's  wound  !  Oh,  mercy  !  I  didn't  hear  a  word 
of  their  fighting. 

Lady  S.  Nor  I,  a  syllable. 

Sir  B.  No  !  what,  no  mention  of  the  duel  ?          [Crosses,  C. 

Mrs.  C.  [R.]  Not  a  word.  [All  sit. 

Sir  B.  [C.]  Oh,  yes  ;  they  fought  before  they  left  the  room. 

Lady  S.  [L.]  Pray,  let  us  hear. 

Mrs.  C.  Ay,  do  oblige  us  with  the  duel. 

Sir  B.  "  Sir,"  says  Sir  Peter,  immediately  after  the  dis- 
covery, "  you  are  a  most  ungrateful  fellow.'* 

Mrs.  C.  Ay,  to  Charles 

Sir  B.  No,  no,  no — to  Mr.  Surface — "a  most  ungrateful 

78 


THE  SCHOOL   FOR   SCANDAL. 

fellow ;  and  old  as  I  am,  sir,"  says  he,  "  I  insist  on  immediate 
satisfaction." 

Mrs.  C.  Ay,  that  must  have  been  to  Charles  ;  for  'tis  very 
unlikely  Mr.  Surface  should  fight  in  his  own  house. 

Sir  B.  Gad's  life,  ma'am,  not  at  all — "  Giving  me  immediate 
satisfaction."  On  this,  ma'am,  Lady  Teazle,  seeing  Sir  Peter 
in  such  danger,  ran  out  of  the  room  in  strong  hysterics,  and 
Charles  after  her,  calling  out  for  hartshorn  and  water;  then, 
madam,  they  began  to  fight  with  swords 

Enter  CRABTREE,  L. ;  crosses,  L.  C. 

Crab.  With  pistols,  nephew — pistols  ;  I  have  it  from  un- 
doubted authority. 

Mrs.  C.  [Crosses  to  CRABTREE.]  Oh,  Mr.  Crabtree,  then  it  is 
all  true  ? 

Crab.  [L.  C.]  Too  true,  indeed,  madam,  and  Sir  Peter  is  dan- 
gerously wounded 

Sir  B.  [R.]  By  a  thrust  in  segoon  quite  through  his  left 
side 

Crab.  By  a  bullet  lodged  in  the  thorax. 

Mrs.  C.  Mercy  on  me  !     Poor  Sir  Peter  ! 

Crab.  Yes,  madam :  though  Charles  would  have  avoided 
the  matter  if  he  could. 

Mrs.  C.  I  told  you  who  it  was ;  I  knew  Charles  was  the 
person. 

Sir  B.  My  uncle,  I  see,  knows  nothing  of  the  matter. 

Crab.  But  Sir  Peter  taxed  him  with  the  basest  ingratitude. 

Sir  B.  That  I  told  you,  you  know 

Crab.  Do,  nephew,  let  me  speak  ! — and  insisted  on  imme- 
diate  

Sir  B.  Satisfaction  !     Just  as  I  said \Crosses  R.  C. 

Crab.  [R.  C.]  Odds  life,  nephew,  allow  others  to  know 
something  too  !  A  pair  of  pistols  lay  on  the  bureau.  Sir 
Peter  forced  Charles  -to  take  one  ;  and  they  fired,  it  seems, 
pretty  nearly  together.  Charles's  shot  took  effect,  as  I  tell 
you,  and  Sir  Peter's  missed  ;  but,  what  is  very  extraordinary, 
the  ball  struck  a  little  bronze  Shakespeare  that  stood  over  the 

79 


THE  SCHOOL  FOR   SCANDAL. 

fireplace,  grazed  out  of  the  window  at  a  right  angle,  and 
wounded  the  postman,  who  was  just  coming  to  the  door  with 
a  double  letter  from  Northamptonshire — but  whether  the  letter 
was  prepaid  or  not,  I  have  not  been  able  to  ascertain. 

[Crosses  R. 

Sir  B.  My  uncle's  account  is  more  circumstantial,  I  confess  ; 
but  I  believe  mine  is  the  only  true  one,  for  all  that. 

Lady  S.  [Aside. ~\  I  am  more  interested  in  this  affair  than 
they  imagine,  and  must  have  better  information. 

[Exit  LADY  SNEERWELL,  L.  D. 

Sir  B.  Ah  !  Lady  Sneerwell's  alarm  is  very  easily  accounted 
for. 

Crab.  Yes,  yes,  they  certainly  do  say — but  that's  neither 
here  nor  there. 

Mrs.  C.  But  pray,  where  is.  Sir  Peter  at  present  ? 

Crab.   Oh  !  they  brought  him  home,  and  he  is  now  in  the 
house,  though  the  servants  are  ordered  to  deny  him. 

Mrs.  C.   I  believe  so,  and  Lady  Teazle,  I  suppose,  attending 
him.     . 

Crab.  Yes,  yes ;  and  I  saw  one  of  the  faculty  enter  just  be- 
fore me. 

Sir  B.  Hey  !  who  comes  here  ? 

Crab.   Oh,  this  is  he  :  the  physician,  depend  on't. 

Mrs.  C.   Oh,  certainly  :    it  must  be  the  physician  ;  and  now 
we  shall  know. 

Enter  SIR  OLIVER  SURFACE,  L.  D. 

Crab.  [R.  C.]  Well,  doctor,  what  hopes  ? 

Mrs.  C.  [R.]  Ay,  doctor,  how's  your  patient? 

Sir  B.  Now,  doctor,  isn't  it  a  wound  with  a  small  sword  ? 

[Coming  down  on  SIR  OLIVER'S  L. 

Crab.  A  bullet  lodged  in  the  thorax,  for  a  hundred. 

Sir  O.  Doctor  !  a  wound  with  a  small  sword  !  and  a  bullet 
in  the  thorax  !     Oons  !  are  you  mad,  good  people  ? 

Sir  B.   [L.]  Perhaps,  sir,  you  are  not  a  doctor  ? 

Sir  O.  Truly,  I  am  to  thank  you  for  my  degree  if  I  am. 

Crab.   Only  a  friend  of  Sir  Peter's,  then,  I  presume. — But, 
sir,  you  must  have  heard  of  his  accident  ? 

80 


THE   SCHOOL   FOR   SCANDAL. 

Sir  0.  Not  a  word  ! 

Crab.   Not  of  his  being  dangerously  wounded  ? 

Sir  0.  The  deuce  he  is  ! 

Sir  B.  Run  through  the  body — 

Crab.  Shot  in  the  breast — 

Sir  B.  By  one  Mr.  Surface — 

Crab.  Ay,  the  younger. 

Sir  O.  Hey  !  what  the  plague  !  you  seem  to  differ  strangely 
in  your  accounts  :  however,  you  agree  that  Sir  Peter  is  danger- 
ously wounded  ? 

Sir  B.  Oh,  yes,  we  agree  in  that.  [Crosses  behind  to  R. 

Crab.  Yes,  yes,  I  believe  there  can  be  no  doubt  of  that. 

Sir  O.  Then,  upon  my  word,  for  a  person  in  that  situation 
he  is  the  most  imprudent  man  alive  ;  for  here  he  comes  walk- 
ing as  if  nothing  at  all  was  the  matter. 

Enter  SIR  PETER  TEAZLE,  R. 

Odd's  heart,  Sir  Peter,  you  are  come  in  good  time,  I  promise 
you;  for  we  had  just  given  you  over. 

Sir  B.   [L.]  Egad,  uncle,  this  is  the  most  sudden  recovery  ! 

Sir  O.  [R.  C.]  Why,  man,  what  do  you  out  of  bed  with  a 
small  sword  through  your  body,  and  a  bullet  lodged  in  your 
thorax  ? 

Sir  P.  [R.]  A  small  sword  and  a  bullet  ? 

Sir  O.  Ay,  these  gentlemen  would  have  killed  you  without 
law  or  physic,  and  wanted  to  dub  me  doctor,  to  make  me  an 
accomplice. 

Sir  P.  Why,  what  is  all  this  ?  [Crosses  C. 

Sir  B.  We  rejoice,  Sir  Peter,  that  the  story  of  the  duel  is  not 
true,  and  are  sincerely  sorry  for  your  other  misfortune. 

[Goes  up  a  little. 

Sir  P.  So,  so  ;  all  over  the  town  already.  [Aside. 

Crab.  Though,  Sir  Peter,  you  were  certainly  vastly  to  blame 
to  marry  at  your  years.  [Retires  a  little  up. 

Sir  P.  [R.  C.]  Sir,  what  business  is  that  of  yours  ? 

Mrs.  C.  Though,  indeed,  as  Sir  Peter  made  so  good  a  hus- 
band, he's  very  much  to  be  pitied. 

Si 


THE   SCHOOL   FOR   SCANDAL. 

Sir  P.  Plague  on  your  pity,  ma'am  !     I  desire  none  of  it? 

[MRS.  CANDOUR  crosses,  L. 

Sir  B.  [Advances  on  his  L.]  However,  Sir  Peter,  you  must 
not  mind  the  laughing  and  jests  you  will  meet  with  on  the  oc- 
casion. 

Sir  P.  Sir,  sir,  I  desire  to  be  master  in  my  own  house. 

Crab.  [Advancing  to  him. ~]  'Tis  no  uncommon  case,  that's 
one  comfort. 

Sir  P.  I  insist  on  being  left  to  myself :  without  ceremony — 
I  insist  on  your  leaving  my  house  directly. 

Mrs.  C.  [Advancing  to  him.']  Well,  well,  we  are  going,  and 
depend  on't  we'll  make  the  best  report  of  it  we  can. 

Sir  P.   Leave  my  house  !  [  The  three  take  arms. 

Crab.  And  tell  how  hardly  you've  been  treated 

Sir  P.  Leave  my  house  ! 

Sir  B.  And  how  patiently  you  bear  it. 

[Exeunt  MRS.  CANDOUR,  SIR  BENJAMIN,  and  CRABTREE, 
L.,  arm  in  arm. 

Sir  -P.  Leave  my  house  ! — Fiends  !  vipers !  furies  !  Oh  !  that 
their  own  venom  would  choke  them  \ 

Sir  O.  They  are  very  provoking,  indeed,  Sir  Peter. 

Enter  ROWLEY,  L. 

Row.  I  heard  high  words  :  what  has  ruffled  you,  sir  ? 

Sir  P.  [C.]  Pshaw  !  what  signifies  asking?  Do  I  ever  pass 
a  day  without  vexations  ? 

Row.     Well,  I'm  not  inquisitive. 

Sir  0.  [R.]  Well,  I  am  not  inquisitive;  I  come  only  to  tell 
you  that  I  have  seen  both  my  nephews  in  the  manner  we  pro- 
posed. 

Sir  P.  A  precious  -couple  they  are  ! 

Row.  Yes,  and  Sir  Oliver  is  convinced  that  your  judgment 
was  right,  Sir  Peter. 

Sir  O.  Yes,  I  find  Joseph  is  indeed  the  man,  after  all. 

Row.  Ay,  as  Sir  Peter  says,  he  is  a  man  of  sentiment. 

Sir  O.  And  acts  up  to  the  sentiments  he  professes. 

Row.   It  certainly  is  edification  to  hear  him  talk. 

Sir  O.  Oh,  he's  a  model  for  the  young  .men  of  the  age  ! — 

82 


THE  SCHOOL   FOR  SCANDAL. 

But  how's  this,  Sir  Peter  ?     You  don't  join  us  in  your  friend 
Joseph's  praise,  as  I  expected. 

Sir  P.  [C.]  Sir  Oliver,  we  live  in  a  very  wicked  world,  and 
the  fewer  we  praise  the  better. 

Row.  [L.]  What !  do  you  say  so,  Sir  Peter,  who  were  never 
mistaken  in  your  life  ? 

Sir  P.  [C.]  Pshaw  !  Plague  on  you  both !  I  see  by  your 
sneering  you  have  heard  the  whole  affair.  I  shall  go  mad 
among  you  ! 

Row .  Then,  to  fret  you  no  longer,  Sir  Peter,  we  are  indeed 
acquainted  with  it  all.  I  met  Lady  Teazle  coming  from  Mr. 
Surface's,  so  humble  that  she  deigned  to  request  me  to  be  her 
advocate  with  you. 

Sir  P.  And  does  Sir  Oliver  know  all  this  ? 

Sir  0.  Every  circumstance. 

Sir  P.  What,  of  the  closet  and  the  screen,  hey  ? 

Sir  O.  Yes,  yes,  and  the  little  French  milliner.  Oh,  I  have 
been  vastly  diverted  with  the  story  !  Ha  !  ha  !  ha  ! 

Sir  P.  'Twas  very  pleasant. 

Sir  O.  I  never  laughed  more  in  my  life,  I  assure  you.  Ha  ! 
ha  !  ha ! 

Sir  P.  Oh,  vastly  diverting  !     Ha  !  ha  !  ha  ! 

Row.  To  be  sure,  Joseph  with  his  sentiments.  Ha  ! 
ha! 

Sir  P.  Yes,  yes,  his  sentiments  !  Ha  !  ha !  ha  !  Hypocrit- 
ical villain  ! 

Sir  O.  Ay,  and  that  rogue  Charles,  to  pull  Sir  Peter  out  of 
the  closet !  Ha  !  ha  !  ha  ! 

Sir  P.   Ha  !  ha  !     'Twas  devilish  entertaining,  to  be  sure. 

Sir  O.  Ha  !  ha  !  ha  !  Egad,  Sir  Peter,  I  should  like  to  have 
seen  your  face  when  the  screen  was  thrown  down  !  Ha  ! 
ha!  ha! 

Sir  P.  Yes,  yes,  my  face  when  the  screen  was  thrown  down  ! 
Ha  !  ha  !  ha  !  Oh,  I  must  never  show  my  head  again  ! 

\_Sinks  on  seat,  C. 

Sir  0.  But  come,  come  ;  it  isn't  fair  to  laugh  at  you, 
neither,  my  old  friend ;  though,  upon  my  soul,  I  can't  help  it. 

Sir  P.  Oh,  pray  don't  restrain  your  mirth  on  my  account :  it 

83 


THE  SCHOOL  FOR   SCANDAL. 

does  not  hurt  me  at  all !  I  laugh  at  the  whole  affair  myself. 
Yes,  yes,  I  think  being  a  standing  joke  for  all  one's  acquaint- 
ance a  very  happy  situation.  Oh,  yes,  and  then,  of  a  morning, 

to  read  the  paragraph  about  Mr.  S ,  Lady  T ,  and  Sir 

P ,  will  be  so  entertaining  !     I  shall  certainly  leave  town 

to-morrow,  and  never  look  mankind  in  the  face  again. 

{Rises  and  crosses,  R. 

Row.  [C.]  Without  affectation,  Sir  Peter,  you  may  despise 
the  ridicule  of  fools.  But  I  see  Lady  Teazle  going  toward  the 
next  room ;  I  am  sure  you  must  desire  a  reconciliation  as 
earnestly  as  she  does. 

Sir  O.  Perhaps  my  being  here  prevents  her  coming  to  you. 
[Going. ~\  Well,  I'll  leave  honest  Rowley  to  mediate  between 
you.  \Exit,  L. 

Sir  P.   She  is  not  coming  here,  you  see,  Rowley. 

Row.  No,  but  she  has  left  the  door  of  that  room  open,  you 
perceive.  See,  she  is  in  tears. 

'Sir  P.  Certainly,  a  little  mortification  appears  very  becom- 
ing in  a  wife.  [Comes  forward.]  Don't  you  think  it  will  do 
her  good  to  let  her  pine  a  little  ? 

Row.  Oh,  this  is  ungenerous  in  you  ! 

Sir  P.  Well,  I  know  not  what  to  think.  You  remember  the 
letter  I  found  of  hers,  evidently  intended  for  Charles  ? 

Row.  A  mere  forgery,  Sir  Peter,  laid  in  your  way  on  pur- 
pose. This  is  one  of  the  points  which  I  intend  Snake  shall 
give  you  conviction  of. 

Sir  P.  I  wish  I  were  once  satisfied  of  that.  She  looks  this 
way.  What  a  remarkably  elegant  turn  of  the  head  she  has  ! 
Rowley,  I'll  go  to  her. 

Roiv.  Certainly. 

Sir  P.  Though,  when  it  is  known  that  we  are  reconciled, 
people  will  laugh  at  me  ten  times  more. 

Row.  Let  them  laugh,  and  retort  their  malice  only  by  show- 
ing them  you  are  happy  in  spite  of  it. 

Sir  P.  Ffaith,  so  I  will !  and,  if  I'm  not  mistaken,  we  may 
yet  be  the  happiest  couple  in  the  country. 

Row.  Nay,  Sir  Peter,  he  who  once  lays  aside  suspicion 

Sir  P.  Hold,  Master  Rowley  !     If  you  have  any  regard  for 

84 


THE  SCHOOL  FOR  SCANDAL. 

me,  never  let  me  hear  you  utter  anything  like  a  sentiment :    I 
have  had  enough  of  them  to  serve  me  the  rest  of  my  life. 

[Exeunt,  R. 

Enter  LADY  SNEERWELL  and  JOSEPH  SURFACE,  L. 

Lady  S.  Explain  to  Sir  Peter  !  Impossible  !  Will  he  not 
immediately  be  reconciled  to  Charles,  and  of  consequence  no 
longer  oppose  his  union  with  Maria  ?  The  thought  is  distrac- 
tion to  me. 

Joseph.   Can  passion  furnish  a  remedy  ? 

Lady  S.  No,  nor  cunning  either.  Oh,  I  was  a  fool,  an  idiot, 
to  league  with  such  a  blunderer ! 

Joseph.  Sure,  Lady  Sneerwell,  I  am  the  greatest  sufferer  ; 
yet  you  see  I  bear  the  accident  with  calmness.  Well,  I  admit 
I  have  been  to  blame.  I  confess  I  deviated  from  the  direct 
road  to  wrong,  but  I  don't  think  we're  so  totally  defeated 
neither. 

Lady  S.  No! 

Joseph.  You  tell  me  you  have  made  a  trial  of  Snake  since 
we  met,  and  that  you  still  believe  him  faithful  to  us  ? 

Lady  S.  I  do  believe  so. 

Joseph.  And  that  he  has  undertaken,  should  it  be  necessary, 
to  swear  and  prove  that  Charles  is  at  this  time  contracted  by 
vows  of  honor  to  your  ladyship,  which  some  of  his  former 
letters  to  you  will  serve  to  support. 

Lady  S.  This,  indeed,  might  have  assisted. 

Joseph.  Come,  come  ;  it  is  not  too  late  yet .  [Knocking  at 
the  door,  L.]  But  hark !  this  is  probably  my  uncle,  Sir 
Oliver.  Retire  to  that  room  ;  we'll  consult  further  when  he  is 
gone. 

Lady  S.  Well,  but  if  he  should  find  you  out,  too  ? 

Joseph.  Oh,  I  have  no  fear  of  that.  Sir  Peter  will  hold  his 
tongue  for  his  own  credit's  sake — and  you  may  depend  on  it 
I  shall  soon  discover  Sir  Oliver's  weak  side  ! 

Lady  S.  I  have  no  diffidence  of  your  abilities  !  only  be  con- 
stant to  one  roguery  at  a  time.  [Exit  LADY  SNEERWELL,  L. 

Joseph.  I  will,  I  will.     So,  'tis  confounded  hard,  after  such 

85 


THE   SCHOOL  FOR   SCANDAL. 

bad  fortune,  to  be  baited  by  one's  confederates  in  evil.  Well, 
at  all  events,  my  character  is  so  much  better  than  Charles's, 

that  I  certainly Hey  !    what ! — this  is  not  Sir  Oliver,  but 

old  Stanley  again.  Plague  on't  !  that  he  should  return  to 
tease  me  just  now.  I  shall  have  Sir  Oliver  come  and  find  him 
here — and 

Enter  SIR  OLIVER  SURFACE,  L.  D. 

Gad's  life,  Mr.  Stanley,  why  have  you  come  back  to  plague 
me  at  this  time  ?  You  must  not  stay  now,  upon  my  word. 

Sir  0.  [L.]  Sir,  I  hear  your  uncle  Oliver  is  expected  here, 
and  though  he  has  been  so  penurious  to  you,  I'll  try  what  he'll 
do  for  me. 

Joseph.  [R.]  Sir,  'tis  impossible  for  you  to  stay  now,  so  I 

must  beg Come  any  other  time,  and  I  promise  you,  you 

shall  be  assisted. 

Sir  0.  No,  Sir  Oliver  and  I  must  be  acquainted. 

Joseph.  Zounds,  sir  !  then  I  insist  on  your  quitting  the  room 
directly. 

Sir  O.   Nay,  sir 

Joseph.  Sir,  I  insist  on't!  Since  you  compel  me,  sir, — not 
one  moment — this  is  such  insolence  ! 

[  Going  to  push  him  out,  L. 

Enter  CHARLES  SURFACE,  L.  D. 

Charles.  Hey  day  !  what's  the  matter  now  !  What,  the  devil, 
have  you  got  hold  of  my  little  broker  here  ?  Zounds,  brother, 
don't  hurt  little  Premium.  [Crosses,  C.]  What's  the  matter, 
my  little  fellow  ? 

Joseph.   [R.]  So  !  he  has  been  with  you,  too,  has  he  ? 

Charles.  [C.]  To  be  sure  he  has.     Why,  he's  as  honest  a 

little But  sure,  Joseph,  you  have  not  been  borrowing  money, 

too,  have  you  ? 

Joseph.  Borrowing!  No!  But,  brother,  you  know  we  ex- 
pect Sir  Oliver  here  every 

Charles.  O  Gad,  that's  true  !  Noll  mustn't  find  the  little 
broker  here,  to  be  sure  ! 

86 


THE   SCHOOL  FOR   SCANDAL 

Joseph.  Yet  Mr.  Stanley  insists — 

Charles.  Stanley  !  why,  his  name's  Premium. 

Joseph.  No,  sir,  Stanley. 

CJiarles.  No,  no,  Premium. 

Joseph.  Well,  no  matter  which — but 

Charles.  Ay,  ay,  Stanley  or  Premium,  'tis  the  same  thing, 
as  you  say  ;  for  I  suppose  he  goes  by  half  a  hundred  names, 
besides  A.  B.  at  the  coffee-house.  [Knock. 

Joseph.  'Sdeath  !  here's  Sir  Oliver  at  the  door.  Now  I  beg, 
Mr.  Stanley 

Charles.  Ay,  ay,  and  I  beg,  Mr.  Premium 

Sir  O.  Gentlemen 

Joseph.  Sir,  by  heaven,  you  shall  go  ! 

Charles.  Ay,  ay,  out  with  him,  certainly  ! 

Sir  O.  This  violence 

Joseph.  Sir,  'tis  your  own  fault. 

Charles.   Out  with  him,  to  be  sure. 

[Both  forcing  SIR  OLIVER  out. 

Enter  LADY  TEAZLE  and  SIR  PETER,  MARIA,  and  ROWLEY, 

R.  D. 

Sir  P.  [C.]  My  old  friend,  Sir  Oliver— hey !  What  in  the 
name  of  wonder — here  are  dutiful  nephews — assault  their  uncle 
on  a  first  visit ! 

Lady  T.  [R.  c.]  Indeed,  Sir  Oliver,  'twas  well  we  came  to 
rescue  you. 

Row.  [R.]  Truly,  it  was;  for  I  perceive,  Sir  Oliver,  the 
character  of  old  Stanley  was  no  protection  to  you. 

Sir  O.  [L.  c.]  Nor  Premium,  either;  the  necessities  of  the 
former  could  not  extort  a  shilling  from  that  benevolent  gen- 
tleman ;  and  with  the  other,  I  stood  a  chance  of  faring  worse 
than  my  ancestors,  and  being  knocked  down  without  being 
bid  for. 

Joseph.  [L.]   Charles  ! 

Charles.  [L.]  Joseph  ! 

Joseph.  'Tis  now  complete. 

Charles.  Very. 

87 


THE   SCHOOL   FOR   SCANDAL. 

Sir  O.  Sir  Peter,  my  friend,  and  Rowley,  too — look  on  that 
elder  nephew  of  mine.  You  know  what  he  has  already  received 
from  my  bounty  ;  and  you  also  know  how  gladly  I  would  have 
regarded  half  of  my  fortune  as  held  in  trust  for  him  ;  judge, 
then,  of  my  disappointment  on  discovering  him  to  be  destitute 
of  truth,  charity,  and  gratitude. 

Sir  P.  [L.  C.]  Sir  Oliver,  I  should  be  more  surprised  at  this 
declaration  if  I  had  not  myself  found  him  to  be  selfish,  treach- 
erous, and  hypocritical. 

Lady  T.  And  if  the  gentleman  pleads  not  guilty  to  these, 
pray  let  him  call  me  to  his  character. 

Sir  P.  Then,  I  believe,  we  need  add  no  more  ;  if  he  knows 
himself,  he  will  consider  it  as  the  most  perfect  punishment 
that  he  is  known  to  the  world. 

Charles.   If  they  talk  this  way  to  honesty,  what  will  they 

say  to  me,  by  and  by.  [Aside. 

[SiR  PETER,  LADY  TEAZLE,  and  MARIA  retire. 

Sir  O.  As  for  that  prodigal,  his  brother  there — 

Charles.  Ay,  now  comes  my  turn :  those  confounded  family 
pictures  will  ruin  me.  [Aside. 

Joseph.  Sir  Oliver — uncle,  will  you  honor  me  with  a  hear- 
ing ? 

Charles.  Now,  if  Joseph  would  make  one  of  his  long 
speeches  I  might  recollect  myself  a  little.  [Aside. 

Sir  0.  I  suppose  you  would  undertake  to  justify  yourself? 

[To  JOSEPH. 

Joseph.   I  trust  I  could. 

Sir  O.  Nay,  if  you  desert  your  roguery  in  its  distress,  and 
try  to  be  justified,  you  have  even  less  principle  than  I  thought 
you  had.  [To  CHARLES.]  Well,  sir,  you  could  justify  your- 
self, too,  I  suppose? 

Charles.  Not  that  I  know  of,  Sir  Oliver. 

Sir  O.  What !  Little  Premium  has  been  let  too  much  into 
the  secret,  I  suppose  ? 

Charles.  True,  sir  ;  but  they  were  family  secrets,  and  should 
not  be  mentioned  again,  you  know. 

Row.  Come,  Sir  Oliver,  I  know  you  cannot  speak  of  Charles's 
follies  with  anger. 


THE   SCHOOL   FOR   SCANDAL. 

Sir  0.  Odd's  heart,  no  more  I  can  ;  nor  with  gravity  either. 
Sir  Peter,  do  you  know  the  rogue  bargained  with  me  for  all 
his  ancestors  ?  sold  me  judges  and  generals  by  the  foot,  and 
maiden  aunts  as  cheap  as  broken  china. 

Charles.  To  be  sure,  Sir  Oliver,  I  did  make  a  little  free  with 
the  family  canvas,  that's  the  truth  on't.  My  ancestors  may 
'certainly  rise  up  in  judgment  against  me  :  there's  no  denying 
it ;  but  believe  me  sincere  when  I  tell  you — that  if  I  do  not 
appear  mortified  at  the  exposure  of  my  follies,  it  is  because  I 
feel  at  this  moment  the  warmest  satisfaction  in  seeing  you,  my 
liberal  benefactor. 

Sir  O.  Charles,  I  believe  you  :  give  me  your  hand  again  : 
the  ill-looking  little  fellow  over  the  settee  has  made  your 
peace. 

Charles.  Then,  sir,  my  gratitude  to  the  original  is  still 
increased. 

Lady  T.  [Advancing,  C.,  MARIA  on  /terR.~\  Yet,  I  believe, 
Sir  Oliver,  here  is  one  whom  Charles  is  still  more  anxious 
to  be  reconciled  to. 

O.  Oh  !  I  have  heard  of  his  attachment  there  ;  and,  with 
the  young  lady's  pardon,  if  I  construe  right  that  blush 

Sir  P.  Well,  child,  speak  your  sentiments  ! 

Maria.  Sir,  I  have  little  to  say,  but  that  I  shall  rejoice  to 
hear  that  he  is  happy ;  for  me,  whatever  claim  I  had  to  his 
attention,  I  willingly  resign  to  one  who  has  a  better  title. 

Charles.   How,  Maria ! 

Sir  P.  Heyday  !  what's  the  mystery  now  ?  While  he  ap- 
peared an  incorrigible  rake  you  would  give  your  hand  to  no 
one  else  ;  and  now  that  he  is  likely  to  reform,  I'll  warrant  you 
won't  have  him. 

Maria.  His  own  heart  and  Lady  Sneerwell  know  the  cause. 

Charles.   Lady  Sneerwell ! 

Joseph.  [L.]  Brother,  it  is  with  great  concern  I  am  obliged 
to  speak  on  this  point,  but  my  regard  to  justice  compels  me, 
and  Lady  Sneerwell's  injuries  can  no  longer  be  concealed. 

[Opens  the  door,  L. 


89 


THE   SCHOOL  FOR   SCANDAL. 

Enter  LADY  SNEERWELL,  R. 

Sir  P.  So  !  another  French  milliner  !  Egad,  I  wonder  if  he 
hides  them  in  my  house  as  well  as  his  own. 

Lady  S.  Ungrateful  Charles  !  Well  may  you  be  surprised, 
and  feel  for  the  indelicate  situation  your  perfidy  has  forced  me 
into.  i 

Charles.  Pray,  uncle,  is  this  another  plot  of  yours  ?  For,  as 
I  have  life,  I  don't  understand  it. 

Joseph.  I  believe,  sir,  there  is  but  the  evidence  of  one  person 
more  necessary  to  make  it  extremely  clear, 

Sir  P.  And  that  person,  I  imagine,  is  Mr.  Snake.  Rowley, 
you  were  perfectly  right  to  bring  him  with  us,  and  pray  let 
him  appear. 

Row.  Walk  in,  Mr.  Snake. 

Enter  MR.  SNAKE,  R.  D. 

I  thought  his  testimony  might  be  wanted  ;  however,  it  happens, 
unluckily,  that  he  comes  to  confront  Lady  Sneerwell,  not  to 
support  her. 

Lady  S.  [L.]  A  villain !  Treacherous  to  me  at  last !  Speak, 
fellow  :  have  you,  too,  conspired  against  me  ? 

Snake.  [R.]  I  beg  your  ladyship  ten  thousand  pardons ;  you 
paid  me  extremely  liberally  for  the  lie  in  question  ;  but  I,  un- 
fortunately, have  been  offered  double  to  speak  the  truth. 

[Gees  up. 

Sir  P.  Plot  and  counterplot !  I  wish  your  ladyship  joy  of 
your  negotiation. 

Lady  S.  [Crosses,  L.]  The  torments  of  shame  and  disappoint- 
ment on  you  all  ! 

Lady  T.  Hold,  Lady  Sneerwell :  before  you  go,  let  me  thank 
you  for  the  trouble  you  and  that  gentleman  have  taken  in 
writing  letters  from  me  to  Charles,  and  answering  them  your- 
self; and  let  me  also  request  you  to  make  my  respects  to  the 
scandalous  college,  of  which  you  are  president,  and  inform  them 
that  Lady  Teazle,  licentiate,  begs  leave  to  return  the  diploma 

90 


THE   SCHOOL   FOR   SCANDAL. 

they  granted  her,  as  she  leaves  off  practice,  and  kills  characters 
no  longer. 

Lady  S.  You,  too,  madam  [Crosses,  L.],  provoking — insolent 
—May  your  husband  live  these  fifty  years  !  [Exit,  L. 

Sir  P.  Oons  !  what  a  fury  ! 

Lady  T.  A  malicious  creature  indeed  ! 

Sir  P.  [On  LADY  TEAZLE'S  right  hand '.]  What!  Not  for 
her  last  wish  ? 

Lady  T.   Oh,  no  ! 

Sir  0.   Well,  sir,  and  what  have  you  to  say  now  ? 

Joseph.  Sir,  I  am  so  confounded  to  find  that  Lady  Sneer- 
well  could  be  guilty  of  suborning  Mr.  Snake  in  this  manner, 
to  impose  on  us  all,  that  I  know  not  what  to  say  :  however, 
lest  her  revengeful  spirit  should  prompt  her  to  injure  my 
brother,  I  had  certainly  better  follow  her  directly.  For  the 
man  who  attempts  to—  [Crosses  and  exit,  L. 

Sir  P.   Moral  to  the  last  ! 

Sir  O.  Ay,  and  marry  her,  Joseph,  if  you  can.  Oil  and 
vinegar  !  Egad  !  you'll  do  very  well  together. 

Row.  I  believe  we  have  no  more  occasion  for  Mr.  Snake,  at 
present. 

Snake.  [L.]  Before  I  go,  I  beg  pardon  once  for  all,  for  what- 
ever uneasiness  I  have  been  the  humble  instrument  of  causing 
to  the  parties  present. 

Sir  P.  Well,  well,  you  have  made  atonement  by  a  good 
deed  at  last. 

Snake.  But  I  must  request  of  the  company  that  it  shall 
never  be  known.* 

Sir  P.  Hey  !  What  the  plague  ! — Are  you  ashamed  of  hav- 
ing done  a  right  thing  once  in  your  life  ? 

Snake.  Ah,  sir,  consider — I  live  by  the  badness  of  my 
character  ;  and  if  it  were  once  known  that  I  had  been  betrayed 
into  an  honest  action,  I  should  lose  every  friend  I  have  in  the 
world.  [Exit,  L. 

Sir  O.  Well,  well,  we'll  not  traduce  you  by  saying  any- 
thing in  your  praise,  never  fear. 

Lady  T.  See,  Sir  Oliver,  there  needs  no  persuasion  now  to 
reconcile  your  nephew  and  Maria. 

91 


THE   SCHOOL   FOR   SCANDAL. 

Sir  0.  Ay,  ay,  that's  as  it  should  be  ;  and,  egad,  we'll  have 
the  wedding  to-morrow  morning. 

Charles.  Thank  you,  dear  uncle  ! 

Sir  P.  What,  you  rogue  !  don't  you  ask  the  girl's  consent 
first? 

Charles.  Oh,  I  have  done  that  a  long  time — a  minute  ago— 
and  she  has  looked  yes. 

Maria.  For  shame,  Charles  ! — I  protest.  Sir  Peter,  there  has 
not  been  a  word. 

Sir  O.  Well,  then,  the  fewer  the  better  ;  may  your  love  for 
each  other  never  know  abatement  ! 

Sir  P.  And  may  you  live  as  happily  together  as  Lady 
Teazle  and  I  intend  to  do  ! 

Charles.  I'll  make  no  promises,  but  here  shall  be  my  moni- 
tor— my  gentle  guide.  Ah  !  can  I  leave  the  virtuous  path 
those  eyes  illumine  ? 

Though  thou,  dear  maid,  should'st  waive  thy  beauty's  sway, 

Thou  still  must  rule,  because  I  will  obey  : 

An  humble  fugitive  from  folly  view, 

No  sanctuary  near  but  Love  and  you  ;  [To  the  Audience. 

You  can,  indeed,  each  anxious  fear  remove, 

For  even  Scandal  dies,  if  you  approve. 

THE    END. 


DISPOSITION     OF    THE     CHARACTERS     AT    THE 
FALL     OF    THE     CURTAIN. 

ROWLEY,    MARIA,    CHARLES,    LADYT.,    SIR  P.,    SIR  O. 
R.  L. 


,    . 


14  DAY  USE 

RETURN  TO  DESK  FROM  WHICH  BORROWED 

LOAN  DEPT. 

This  book  is  due  on  the  last  date  stamped  below,  or 

on  the  date  to  which  renewed. 
Renewed  books  are  subject  to  immediate  recall. 


|10May'62DC 


REC'D  LD 


OCT11-65-7PM 


MAR  1  ?  1969  2  5 
RECEIVED 

MAR  17  '69  -8PM 


REC'D  Ld 


OUI  9    196 


General  Library 

University  of  California 

Berkeley 


<LD  21A-50m-3,'62 
(ClQ97slO)476B 


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